<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>how long have i loved them? it has been coming on so gradually, that I hardly know when it began by ffslynch</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29409669">how long have i loved them? it has been coming on so gradually, that I hardly know when it began</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ffslynch/pseuds/ffslynch'>ffslynch</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Canon Compliant, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, M/M, Mutual Pining</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 11:01:25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>21,986</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29409669</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ffslynch/pseuds/ffslynch</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>they get together, one by one, through the years</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou/Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou, Akaashi Keiji/Kozume Kenma, Akaashi Keiji/Kuroo Tetsurou, Bokuto Koutarou/Kozume Kenma, Bokuto Koutarou/Kuroo Tetsurou, Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>147</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Haikyuu Big Bang 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. what were we then? in ten years i have not found an adequate word to describe us</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is the end result of the haikyuu bigbang 2020. It has a lot of work and love into it. I hope you enjoy it.<br/>Thank you to the wonderful <a href="https://jupiturde.tumblr.com/">Erin</a> for being such a kind, sweet and amazing beta reader, and to <a href="https://twitter.com/hana_shi_">Robin</a>, for being the most wonderful artist, adopted child and supporter.</p><p>
  <a href="https://twitter.com/hana_shi_/status/1364188064856346628"> Here's the incredible art that robin made for this fic. Enjoy! </a>
</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Most people think that love doesn’t stand the test of time – that it is eternal only as long as it lasts – but love is an unquenchable flame. It is only the fires of momentary desire that burn too fast and go out far too quickly without leaving behind a single trace.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>― Mirella Muffarotto, Every Boy is a Story</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>Why do we breathe air? Because we love air? Because we don't want to suffocate. Why do we eat? Because we don't want to starve. How do I know I love her? Because I can sleep after I talk to her.</span>
  </em>
  <span>"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>― Maggie Stiefvater, The Raven King</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“If there is no love in the world, we will make a new world, and we will give it walls, and we will furnish it with soft, red interiors, from the inside out, and give it a knocker that resonates like a diamond falling to a jeweller's felt so that we should never hear it. Love me, because love doesn't exist, and I have tried everything that does.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>― Jonathan Safran Foer, Everything Is Illuminated</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>From the very beginning of time, humans have wondered about the nature of that strange feeling born in the pit of your stomach, the feeling that slowly spreads to your lungs and ends up in an ever dictating routine of your thoughts. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This is something most people call love. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It starts with this warm feeling on your chest, that never quite ceases to exist whenever you think of them, and then transcends into action, into lingering touches and daily acts of caring,  and later on, it even translates to the terrifying act of gathering courage for 5 seconds and saying out loud. Or maybe it is never saying to say things out loud - because they know your soul in ways that do not require the act of speech. Or maybe it’s the exact opposite, going out of your way to verbalize your feelings because even though it is not your natural instinct, there’s just something about them that makes you want to scream this feeling from the type of your lungs - because you feel too much, because they deserve to hear it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s intimacy, unspeakable trust, warm hands and soft sounds on the background that indicate a second life occupying the same space. It’s seeing them everywhere you go, wanting to share everything you do. It’s silently cutting and plating fruit for the other, is doing things and never expecting anything back. Is dedication. It’s silent and loud, and whatever you need it to be.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So, even many, many, centuries later, humanity is still left wondering: what is love? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>To Akaashi Keiji, love doesn’t mean one thing specific. He is raised by a doctor and a professor, brought up in a household that values logic and well-defined terms. It gives him a pretty black and white view of life, but even so, he can’t quite point out the exact meaning of what ‘love’ is. Love is a biological need for humans. Humans are unable to survive without it in the long term, regardless if it’s towards other people or simple daily acts, hobbies or art. Its origin doesn't really matter, whether it comes from family, friends, or even pets. As a teenager, however, Akaashi thinks of romantic love in a different light - to him, it’s more like jewels. It’s nice, and it could be beautiful, but from Akaashi’s point of view, one does not necessarily need one to live. During his younger years, he doesn’t really have time and energy for one that is too restricting. Whenever he feels himself developing a crush or deeper feelings, it’s more like he is sick. Anxious all the time, like he might throw up, like he has a fever.  As he grows, however, he sees that maybe that’s not necessarily true, at least not for the whole world. He re-learns love from books, heroines, history and stories. Akaashi learns that, to him, Love means whatever he wants it to be - there’s some sort of freedom, in that way. It means love can have its own meaning, each time one experiences.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>To Akaashi, love is Mughal emperor Shah Jahan banning music and entertainment for two years, out of grief after his wife Mumtaz Mahal died. Love is how he built her the Taj Mahal, a proof of his infatuation that could never be destroyed, so her body could rest in peace. Love is how King Nebuchadnezzar II  demanded the construction of a series of terraced gardens within the walls of the city of Babylon in the sixth century B.C. as a gift for his wife, Amytis of Media when she had difficulty adjusting to life in the flat deserts of Babylon and yearned for the forests and mountains of Kurdistan. Love is how Edward VIII abdicated the throne to marry Wallis Simpson because she could have never been a princess. Love is every single sonnet Elizabeth Barrett Browning wrote for Robert Browning, changing the world of English literature in the process - because her love, when put into words, was just that strong. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>To Akaashi, love is a fever that he learns to live with. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>To Bokuto Koutaro, love means companionship. By any means, love is partnership. Love is someone who stays. It’s a two-way street, in which you get as much as you give. It is being equals - in love, in action, in life, side by side. It Is caring for one another, it’s sending bad memes randomly during the day, or laughing when they talk about something silly that they went through. It’s texting a bunch of times in a row because you can’t stop thinking about them, and they should know it. It’s just having so much to share - and be willing to listen. It’s overflowing, it leaks from every fibre of his being.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bokuto loves love, he loves being in love, he loves loving people. He can’t help but give his all into everything he cares for. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Love is commitment. It’s beyond simple physical affection and making occasional time for each other - it’s support, it’s being reliable and knowing that you can rely on someone. It’s promising to spend time together and support their dream, and stick to it. It’s the feeling he gets when he sees a great spike on the court, and tells himself he’ll be able to do one better. It’s the rush of the wind on his face as he runs. It’s the sound of his team saying goodbye, after extra training, after they stayed later because Bokuto asked. It’s all the little gestures people do just because they kept you in their mind.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For Bokuto, love means being the truest version of himself without fear of judgement and returning that comfort and freedom to his partners.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>To Kozume Kenma, love means everything and nothing at the same time. It’s just a feeling that he has grown so used to, sometimes he fails in seeing why some people think is so special. You see, Kenma was raised in a house filled with love, it was everywhere. He has always known what love is. It’s the way his father always gets his mother her favourite soda when he goes out to buy anything, even if it’s just newspaper. It’s the way his mother tries to stay awake and watch history documentaries with his dad, even if she’s so close to falling asleep half of the time. Love is the fact that when she does eventually fall asleep, his father always covers her with a blanket, so she can sleep comfortably as he keeps watching, his fingers playing with her hair. It’s wonderful, that he is someone who gets to experience watching true love so closely. But in a way, it makes it almost desynthesized for him. Kenma has always known that he would find love someday. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Until he reaches middle school, and then suddenly dealing with other people become a monstrous thing. Something he never really understands how to do, without feeling awkward or too exposed. Kenma can’t possibly imagine how someone could ever love him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In a way, love means the world to him. It’s what he remembers the most from his childhood, seeing his parents being in love and feeling loved by them. In a way, it’s the reason why he keeps on moving every day, even when he only wants to stay in bed and never step into school again. Love is everything, it’s the only feeling around which all feelings revolve, pride, happiness, sadness, anger, relief, etc all of these exist because love exists. At the same time, it means nothing because of how denatured it is, how its worth has changed, how love and humans and existing, all turned into such a complex thing. Something he fears more than desires. Something that feels impossible - to be seen by someone, and wanted anyway. To want someone back. To be close, to want to get closer. To be the person falling asleep during the movie, with a head on their shoulder, or to be the person covering the other with a blanket. At some point, Kenma stops being able to see himself as either of them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> But, regardless of all the changes, Love remains the foundation of everything. Kenma can just hope to find his way back to it, or to be found by someone that wants to learn the way with him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>To Kenma, Love means to be known and understood, and in return to understand the other person too. It means feeling comfortable, and actually wanting to make things work because it's worth the effort.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>To Kuroo Tetsurou, love means never truly being alone. Love is his mother leaving, but his father staying. Is his grandfather taking care of his grandmother, even when she started to forget who everyone was. Love is the way she never forgot his fathers’ favourite curry recipe or that Kuroo didn’t like the dark, so she kept the hallway light on. Love is his sister kissing the palm of his hands when he was a child, before she left for trips or her friends’ house, and telling him that if he held it near to his heart he’d be able to feel her love. Love is the fact that he kept doing it, even if he hasn’t seen her since the divorce. Love is the way his friends will stay with him on skype until three am studying for exams in one week, but will also go to bed at 10 pm when he tells them to, on the next. Love is the way the Kozumes gave him a key when he told them how lonely and anxious he felt at home sometimes. Love is holding back a laugh from getting a notification for a funny text in the middle of class. Love is crying during a movie because it’s so beautiful and familiar. Love is being ok with crying in public because he knows his friends won’t judge him for it. Love is desperately wanting to hold someone you might never meet again, but being so damn thankful that you got to meet them anyway. Love is in every colour he has ever seen and every song he has ever heard played. Love is the way his team trusts him, even when they’re embarrassed by his speeches. Love is lowering the net, is giving his all no matter what, is making sure other people are being loved too. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>To Kuroo, Love is selflessness. Is giving part of yourself willingly for another. Caring for something that isn't an extension of you. Becoming better for it. It's one of the most worthwhile things in life, if not the thing that makes it all worth it. It’s finding someone with whom you can say that you are complete pieces that fit together, not because you were meant to be but because you wanted to. Because you crafted and fit each other around. Love is giving and receiving, and not being left behind. Love is staying. Love is having someone waiting for him at the end of the day. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Humanity loves to wonder about love, to savour the feeling and attempt to put it into words, even if (and especially then) it’s unrequited or impossible. Many songs have been written about it, and an endless amount of poetry and extreme boosts of random declarations are made and posted on a daily basis. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Still, its odd and yet inherent nature grants it a mystery that is almost unbearable and too complicated for humans. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Why do we fear it? Is this alleged feeling really worth the mortifying ordeal of being known? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What is the purpose? Is there even any purpose to it? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It is a weight so heavy to carry, and yet we yearn for it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Does it make us selfish? Or does it make us giving? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Does it tie us down? Or is it the one thing that frees us enough to make us fly? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <br/>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“You two are bound to one another. You always have been … and you can't run away from what you are. No matter where you go, your feelings for them are going to follow you.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>― Mirella Muffarotto, Every Boy is a Story</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The first time Kenma and Kuroo kiss it's all awkward limbs and too much saliva. They are pre-teens, full of hormones, overly attached to each other. It begins with 3 a.m. talks about this new couple from their school, then about girls they think are cute and then about Kuroo’s deep dark fear: that when does find a girl that likes him back and gets his shit together to ask her out on a date, he’ll be so bad at kissing that she will laugh on his and tell everyone he was awful. And so, obviously, no one else will ever want to date him, and he will die alone (because Kuroo is not a dramatic person at all). Kenma laughs and Kuroo throws a pillow at him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re laughing now, but it won’t be funny at all when you have to come and check on me to make sure I haven’t died since no one will want to marry me”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“First of all, this is ridiculous. Second of all, I’d let you die”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You would never”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I would”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Would not”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Would too”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Would not”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Would.” Kenma says throwing the pillow back and sighing “Stop being dramatic Kuro”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But Kenma, what if I’m awful?? Kissing is not like volleyball, I don’t get to train alone before a game or a try out for a team. It’s literally the first time and if I fuck up…” Kenma sighs</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Relax, would ya?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How? It’s my love life that is in line here”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just, I don’t know, relax, you’ll figure something out,” Kenma says and Kuroo sighs dramatically, laying down and looking to the ceiling with his ‘I’m overthinking and suffering because of it’ that Kenma had gotten so used to. They spend a few minutes in silence, Kuroo suffering and Kenma playing his video game until Kuroo suddenly sits up, eyes as wild with an insane idea behind it, another facial expression Kenma knew like the back of his hand. “Unless…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Unless…?” Kenma repeats, his eyes semi-closed with suspicion</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ok, hear me out” Kuroo, raising his hands as one does when they are presenting a plan that is bound to fail “What if I do train before my first kiss?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That...could work, I guess?” Kenma says confused “You just need to find someone to do that with” He answers, and Kuroo just keeps looking at him expectantly. “Why are looking at me lik-...Oh!” He says as realization dawns on him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Kenma, c’mon you’re my best friend. Please help me out”</span>
</p>
<p><span>“I guess I can do that,” He says shyly, looking down. Kenma would be lying if he said he had never noticed Kuroo was attractive, but they were feelings he had acknowledged and accepted that he would take to the grave, with no come out whatsoever. At least, that’s what he had thought until that moment. </span><span><br/></span> <span>“You’re literally the best,” Kuroo says, excitedly as he comes closer, sitting on his knees. </span></p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s whatever,” Kenma says, looking down. He thinks that if he looks at Kuroo’s face he will explode. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They stay like that for an awkward moment or two, Kuroo facing him and Kenma not moving, looking down. Agreeing to kiss his best friend had been a somewhat impulsive decision, and Kenma would be lying if he hadn’t felt a thrill going down his spine at the thought of it, but actually doing it - turning around to face Kuroo, look him in the eyes, let Kuroo look at him and then...and then kiss him - it was nerve-wracking, filling him up with nervousness and anxiety. Another minute goes by in complete silence before Kuroo breaks it with an anxious giggle</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s ok if you don’t want to, I mean it was probably a stupid idea anyway…” he starts, voice heavy with embarrassment and Kenma’s eyes grow wild</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No!” He says, almost yelling, too loud for his own liking. Kenma cringes at how desperate he sounds but a part of him was pretty sure this - Kuroo asking Kenma for a kiss - was an opportunity that most likely would never happen again. Especially if Kuroo thought he was being rejected. “I’m just...nervous. You know I’ve never kissed anyone else before.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh!” Kuroo nods eagerly, looking relieved. “Well, neither have I! That’s why this is a good idea! That way we can train for when it actually counts.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kenma frowns. He is pretty sure this time does count. Just because Kuroo is a boy, and they are friends and not in love or anything, does it mean that this kiss won’t count? Does it make it less of a kiss? That seems unfair. But then again, he has never kissed anyone, and this is not a subject he tends to dwell on too much, so maybe he just doesn’t know all the rules. Kuroo is older, not by much but still, maybe he just knows the definitions better. Kenma shrugs</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, for when it actually counts…” He says before swallowing dry and slowly starting to move. He mimics Kuroo, sitting on his knees and facing him, before licking his lips. His eyes are stuck to the floor again, to the minimal space in between their legs. Kuroo’s skin has always been a few shades darker than his, because of the sun and also because Kenma almost never wore shorts, and suddenly he can't stop thinking about the difference in skin tones and comparing them to the much darker shade of wood of his bedroom floor. In reality, he is just getting even more nervous. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey...Kenma” Kuroo’s voice comes to him in the softest tone he has ever heard. There is a warm hand touching his cheek, very lightly.  He slowly looks up, trying not to shake or show that he may be overthinking. That maybe he cares too much about this, the kiss that doesn’t even count. “You okay?” Kenma nods. “You sure?” Another nod. “Ok. I’m going to kiss you now, is that alright?” A third, slower and shakier nod. Kenma closes his eyes and braces himself a little bit, both anxious and excited for it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There is this block of ice on his stomach that began growing the minute Kuroo mentioned dating and his love life. This happened sometimes when Kuroo talked about things Kenma felt like he was ages away from experiencing, and felt like his best friend might be slowly leaving him behind for it. But as that conversation had progressed to the idea of this kiss, the block of ice just grew more and more, adding a weight that sent a chill to his very core. As Kenma stood there, eyes closed, waiting for the moment to come, he was sure his ribs, heart and lungs were made of pure frost. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>However, it all melts away instantly, the moment Kuroo’s lips touch his. Kuroo’s mouth is warm, and his lips are way softer than one could give credit for a teenage boy. When he kisses Kenma, the younger boy feels waves of softness and comfort spread through his whole body. It’s nothing cinematic or out of this world, just lips pressed against each other, but it’s the first time Kenma really understands why people might enjoy this activity so much. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When Kuroo pulls away, a second after, his breath is ragged and unstable. Kenma is the first one to open his eyes, and his own breath actually gets a little bit harder as he watches Kuroo’s face: eyes closed, brows furrowed, lips shiny and slightly parted. He looks stupidly good like this, and it makes Kenma almost squirm with want to pull him back in and press their lips together for another round. When Kuroo opens his eyes again and looks straight into Kenma’s, he completely forgets how to breathe. There is a moment of silence, and then they are kissing again. And again, and again, and again, for minutes at a time, each time longer and messier. There are tongue and teeth clashing and sometimes too much saliva. They lose track of time, hands lost, tangled up in silky tresses and roaming heaving shoulders, pressed against each other until they can hear Kenma’s mum walking down the hallway, probably to make sure they’re already sleeping and not pulling an all-nighter to play video games.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They separate, quickly and aggressively, and Kenma pushes Kuroo away from him with so much force the older boy almost hits his head on the table that has Kenma’s small TV and gaming consoles on it. Kuroo turns the TV off and in the complete darkness of the room, they move as silent and quick as they can without making any noise that might indicate to Kozume-san that they are awake, still. Much more awake than they should, in fact. Kenma reaches his bed and climbs on it, while Kuroo lies on the mattress that is always given to him when he comes over but is usually ignored. He does sleep on it sometimes, but usually both boys crash together on Kenma’s bed and although it’s not that weird that that isn’t the case tonight, it does say something about how Kuroo feels about what had just happened. Kenma tries to not think too much about it, tries to forget the whole ordeal really. He stares at the ceiling for far too long before falling asleep, Kuroo’s stable and familiar breaths guiding him into a dreamless night. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>On the other end, Kuroo is restless the whole night. He finds himself waking up every 40 minutes or so, body still shivering and yet too warm. His skin feels prickly at every single place in which Kenma has touched him, and his heart has been beating too fast from the moment his lips had touched Kenma’s for the first time. Above all, Kuroo has this terrifying realization on the back of his head about just how much he enjoyed the kiss.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He isn’t stupid, he knows he found Kenma attractive, and of course he feels comfortable enough with him to ask Kenma if he could kiss him, mostly because he was sure it wouldn’t be an awful experience. And in reality, it wasn’t! It was good - too good. In fact, Kuroo was pretty sure that he wanted to kiss Kenma for the rest of his life, and that was the most wonderful and frightening thing that he had ever thought. Because even though Kenma had, in fact, kissed him back (and more enthusiastically than Kuroo expected him too, to tell the truth), it still doesn’t mean that he was actually into it. He might not have hated it completely, but that doesn’t mean that Kenma likes kissing him. That Kenma likes him. And God, Kuroo likes Kenma so much. But he simply can’t say it out loud, can’t ever let Kenma know that. Because he is so certain that someone as wonderful as Kenma could never love someone so lame like him, and if he did ever say it out loud and for an obscure joke of the universe Kenma did like him back - what if it ruined them? What if Kuroo ruined them? What if he broke Kenma’s heart or even worse: what if, upon further inspection, Kenma realized Kuroo was really a boring loser with attachment issues, and no longer wanted anything to do with him? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kuroo had dragged himself onto the spare mattress, not trusting his own ability to self-contain and not keep touching Kenma all over, kissing his face and shoulders, burying his head on his neck and hair, holding his hands and brushing his fingers through the black locks. He made himself lay there, in silence, until his body calmed down, until Kenma fell asleep, hoping that by the morning the mess inside his chest and brain would have calmed down, and he could go back to just being Kuroo, and Kenma would still be Kenma. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The next morning, before breakfast is even served, Kuroo tells the Kozume family goodbye, and it would be like any other day if his face hadn’t been unbelievably red, and hair messier than ever (they give a lame excuse about playing fight that years later Kenma is convinced his mother didn’t buy it, not even for a second). His eyes take a few seconds too long to break away from Kenma’s face before he turns and bolts out of the door into the street covered by the pink and yellow hues of early morning.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kenma’s mother asks him if he had fun and Kenma shrugs, before going up to his bedroom to finish homework, play video games and pretend that last night did not happen at all. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Much later, after dinner and as he is laying down on his bed trying to sleep, Kenma nods to himself deciding that definitely counted as a first kiss. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Three houses down, snuggled in between two pillows, Kuroo decides the same thing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>"He was pointing at the moon, but I was looking at his hand." </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>―</span>
  <span> Richard Silken, Anyway</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kuroo might have been the first boy that Kenma had ever felt attracted to, but he definitely wasn’t the only or the last. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Three years after the messy kiss on his bedroom floor, nothing really has changed. Kenma is still the same mostly quiet, introverted boy. He still plays games in his free time, and if he’s not glued to the screen he is inside the court, playing for Nekoma. Most importantly, regardless of where he is, Kuroo is still always by his side. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kenma had followed his steps right into Nekoma, and it’s volleyball team, to play as a setter as Kuroo had always told him he was perfect for. They meet outside of Kenma’s house in the morning before school, and then after training get the train back home together as well. Kenma has trouble adjusting to the new school, not really finding his place or close friends, and especially into the team, with the third years being mean and overbearing. They are not particularly nice to any of them, but Kenma always feels like they’re especially mean to him. Kuroo assures him that they will be graduating soon and the rest of the team knows how important Kenma is for them, how smart and talented and valuable he is. None of that helps Kenma much if he is being sincere, and he doesn’t really care about people’s opinions about him. But Kuroo asks him to stay, so Kenma does. They still spend their Wednesdays nights doing homework and studying in Kenma’s bedroom, and practice on Saturdays mornings and then laze around playing video games all afternoon on Sundays. Sometimes Kuroo looks at him for too long, and although Kenma is not a fan of touching, whenever he and Kuroo hug, he is the last one to let go. Nothing really has changed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They’re in training camp. It’s the hour after dinner that the teams have to socialize before going to bed, but Kenma doesn’t really feel like it. His game has also run out of battery, and he stupidly forgot his charger, so he can’t just hide in their room to play as usual. Trying to escape his senpais, and the very over-excited Kuroo and the rest of the teams, Kenma wanders outside, on the hills they usually have to do up and down runs as punishment and lets his body plop down, to watch the stars. His mother loved star-watching and had thought quite a bit about it to Kenma, but it had been a while since he last practised. Eyes trained on the sky, with his fingers crossed behind his head, that is how Kenma ends up being found by Akaashi Keiji. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kenma had heard him approaching and plopped himself onto his elbows expecting to Find Kuroo or Yaku or even Fukunaga, but he was surprised to see Fukurodani’s setter, holding two steam foam cups filled with a warm drink, probably tea. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hello, Kozume-san” he greets, politely and Kenma nods at him, gulping. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hi,” he says, voice tense. Talking to people, in general, made Kenma extremely nervous, and although he and Akaashi had met before and even talked a handful of times; thanks to the connections between Nekoma and Fukurodani, as well as Kuroo’s and Bokuto’s friendship and insistence in dragging them to hang out with them every other weekend. To say they were close would be a stretch, to say the least. But the truth was, this situation made Kenma even tenser than anything - he was pretty sure he had developed a crush on Akaashi the moment he had laid his eyes on him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Akaashi was pretty in a way that Kenma didn’t quite know how to explain, he had never seen anyone as graceful as him. Akaashi wasn’t hot nor cute, he was gorgeous. In the way main characters of romance novels should be, in the way that the fairy characters of Kenma’s RP games were. It felt unfair, really, for anyone to ever look this good. He had these glistening, blue eyes and the softest black hair. It made Kenma want to run his fingers through it whenever he saw it. And it even went beyond that, because Akaashi was also so, so nice. He was mostly quiet and withdrawn, and extremely respectful of Kenma’s boundaries, and so supportive when it came to his teammates. And he was so smart, an incredible setter. Kenma hated him with passion on their first game against each other, the way Akaashi could read him and his sets and predict the moves from the middle blockers. It was frustrating but oh so thrilling to have competition that made him want to compete, to work harder, to overcome. Kenma had never felt like that inside the court before</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I hope I’m not disturbing you. I just saw you sneaking out, and it was way too...intense inside, so I thought I might join you” Akaashi tells him, as he sits down beside him on the damp grass. Kenma gulps but nods, quickly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, you’re not disturbing me at all.” Kenma assures him, voice a bit too fast “And yeah, they always get way too excited on training night” he adds with a chuckle, to which Akaashi nods as well, agreeing with him. Ok. Good. Kenma could do this. It would be fine. He could socialize with a pretty boy, on his own, on a starry night outside the gym.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah, I brought you a drink, Kozume-san,” he says and hands him one of the two cups he was holding. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you” Kenma whispers, sitting up fully and getting one of the cups “You know, I already told you, you can call me Kenma, it’s fine” And Akaashi looks down, blushing a bit.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay...Kenma” The way his name sounds in Akaashi’s voice makes a shiver go down Kenma’s spine. He likes the shape of his mouth when he says it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They stay in silence for a while, just drinking and watching the stars - but then, like the summer heat that slowly makes its way into existence, they begin talking. First about small things - exams, and school and comments on the games. And then Akaashi asks Kenma about which video game he brought for the camp, and how he liked it and it makes Kenma’s heart beat a little bit faster. Because he has known Akaashi for long enough to know how much the other boy did not make small talk just for the sake of it - if anything, he hated it more than Kenma. So if he was asking him about something that was not of his personal interest, about a game that Kenma liked, then it was because he was generally interested in Kenma. It was flustering and slightly overwhelming, but he is able to produce a coherent answer after gulping for a second. He starts explaining the mechanics of the game, and Akaashi seems interested in the plot of it and soon enough the conversation evolves into the both of them exchanging stories and references to interesting plots in games, movies and anime they had both watched. It’s fun and light-hearted and Kenma has this fluttering feeling in his stomach every time Akaashi smiles at him, the skin wrinkling around his eyes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kenma watches Akaashi’s fingers holding the stir foam cup. Unnervingly, he is filled with a need to hold his hands. To let him rest his head on his shoulder and kiss the top of his head. He hates it. He must be sleepy, he tells himself. Kenma hates it even more that he knows it's a lie. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He ends up crushing his own cup after he is done, folding in two pieces before laying both hands on the ground and looking up. Akaashi is telling him about a romance novel they had to read for English class, in which some of the characters are named after constellations, and now Kenma finds himself searching inside his head for any sort of memory regarding the name of the stars that Kuroo might have taught him. He raises his left hand, pointing some of them out to Akaashi, and as he is mentioning the name of Canis Majoris, he chokes on his own words. He can feel Akaashi slowly sliding his free hand over his. Kenma turns to look down, and no, he isn’t crazy or haunted by a ghost, Akaashi’s hand is definitely on his. He looks up and gulps, realizing that their faces are closer than he had previously noticed. Akaashi notices the panic in his eyes and misinterprets it as something more negative than it actually is.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry-” he starts to slowly pull away his hand, but Kenma reaches with his other hand to grasp his wrist and stop him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don't,” he tells him, voice a little raspy from tension and excitement. “Don’t...apologize. Or move away.”  he says, and it comes out as barely a whisper. Akaashi gulps himself and nods. Kenma’s eyes are on his lips, and he is moving closer so very slowly like he is making sure that Akaashi really wants this. Like he doesn’t want to scare Akaashi away. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But Akaashi is an impatient man, too anxious to wait, so he moves forward first, pressing his lips against Kenma’s as he’s been wanting to do so for a while now, and relishes in the boy’s reactions - a little gasp, a quick passing shiver, an immediate response to kissing Akaashi back. His lips are cold, and they feel good against Kenma’s after the warm tea. Kenma thinks it is like having vanilla ice cream with apple pie - hitting the perfect spot of sweetness and leaving him wanting for more. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The stars keep shining above them, watching the show, as both boys tentatively kiss away. It’s slow, and caring and hungry at the same time. There is no rush, but it’s also an act that has been daydreamed of for so long, that they both press against each other with passion and heat. One of Akaashi’s hand slowly finds its way onto Kenma’s nape, and it keeps pressing and massaging the skin there as he kisses Kenma’s breath away. Kenma’s hands, on their own, have bunched up Akaashi’s T-shirt, making tight fists against his chest and pulling him closer and closer and closer, until he can practically feel Akaashi’s erratic heartbeat stomping against his ribcage, and Kenma can not even judge him for it, because he is pretty sure that his own heart is not doing much better. It’s a starry night, and he is kissing a beautiful boy, and he can not think about anything else that is not this moment right here. Akaashi fills his lungs like the humid summer air, and Kenma feels like he might combust at any second. Nothing compares to this. Not a single star could shine brighter than what he feels like at this moment. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kenma isn’t sure how much time has passed, his head feels dizzy from kissing Akaashi for so long - both because of the lack of oxygen and the thrill of the action itself. The dream-come-to-life gets suddenly interrupted by Bokuto’s voice calling them, and both of the boys end up jumping in the same spot, lips only a few centimetres against each other. Akaashi pulls himself away, licks his lips and tries to straighten up his hair and clothes. Kenma hides his face on his hands for a few seconds, feeling the need to take a breath and calm himself down before looking up again. Bokuto’s head appears on the bottom of the hill, his smile bright like the stars above them, calling them out for dinner. Akaashi nods and stands up, before offering Kenma a hand. Kenma smiles at him, before accepting it and standing up. They walk down, fingers brushing one another until it’s time to part ways in the dining hall. Akaashi gives him a soft smile, before turning away, and so does Kenma. Kuroo teases him for being red and asks if he’s coming down with a fever again. Kenma shakes his head, telling him he is fine, and stares through the window during dinner, happily thinking about that night's outcome. He can’t wait for the rest of the training camp. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <br/>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>There are worse things in the world than a boy who likes to kiss other boys.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>― Benjamin Alire Sanchez, Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>In usual conditions, Kuroo loves going to all volleyball events, he has been bothering his family to take him to them since he first got interested in the sport. Later, when he gets closer to Kenma, the boy ends up being dragged together with him, always standing by Kuroo’s side, at every possible chance. Kenma is not the biggest fan, of course, but it makes Kuroo so ridiculously happy that he can’t find it in himself to say no. For Kuroo, it’s not even only about the games, he truly enjoys going to any event that is centred around the sport; They are always packed with talented players and interesting people that are filled with experience, and eager to share their knowledge, experience and tips. Kuroo loves playing volleyball - but learning and hearing about it are probably one of his favourite things. Kenma mocks him sometimes, calls him a jock and tells him that if he keeps on with his volleyball centred mindset he is in serious danger of ending up with a brain as smooth as the ball the blocks on the court, but they both know Kuroo is a huge nerd and a scholar at heart. So really, events like the one in which he is right now, organized by the Japanese Volleyball Association, and inviting multiple schools from Japan, he is usually ecstatic.  The cherry on top is the fact that he and Bokuto had been able to meet up and come together, and it had been a party from the moment they had seen each other at the train station. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>However, at this very moment, things are far from what Kuroo wants them to be. The afternoon had been going very well, fun and easy and filled with the most interesting people and interaction, even some famous players were there. But it had all gone down crashing when they had run into a couple of Bokuto’s ex-middle school teammates. Pressed against his shoulder in the semi-crowded room, Kuroo could feel his friend growing tense. When he looks to the group of boys sneering into their direction, Kuroo dismisses them as being bitter players that had lost to Fukurodani in the past, nothing new nor unexpected, after all, you are bound to run into a few rivals in settings like these. Kuroo, personally, likes to think of volleyball as a chance to connect and learn; creating bridges in between people through the sport, this shared unique experience that is being in a team, the feeling of never letting the ball hit the floor, the thrill of going for one more set, the thirst for improving. However, he supposes, people can see it as a competition and a way to establish dominance and hierarchy. It doesn’t seem as near as fun, but he guesses that he can’t force them to be right.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He dismisses the group as unimportant until Bokuto talks, stone-faced and voice faltering</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They were on my middle school team.” He tells him, and it’s time for Kuroo to tense up. He knows this story. Bokuto had told him the first night they had training camp together. He was surprised that Kuroo not only had stayed for the extra practice when everyone else had gone to sleep, but kept on doing his best, regardless of how many times Bokuto asked him for blocks. He didn't falter, didn't complain, didn't leave. They barely knew each other, but Kuroo stayed and Bokuto had been so excited he couldn't even hide it. Until he looked at his phone and realized it was past midnight, Kuroo had his hands on his knees, his usually wild and unruly hair down, sticking to his forehead with sweat. He looked exhausted, and Bokuto hadn't even noticed, too caught up on his own excitement. He was about to apologize when Kuroo looked up, eyes on fire and sharp smile, and asked; ‘one more?’. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s been over a year and Bokuto has yet to learn a word that describes the way he felt at that moment. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After they wrap up, putting away the brooms and chugging water with the fierceness of the exhausted, Bokuto apologized to Kuroo for keeping him so long after hours. It wasn’t his intention, and he knew it could be too much. When Kuroo asked him what he meant by that, Bokuto looked away. His face was already warm due to training, but it got worse as he told Kuroo about the many incidents in which he was left behind during middle school, abandoned by the rest of the team that had no patience for his one-track mind and over dedication. It was a painful admission, a memory he doesn’t enjoy remembering but that has nestled itself into the darkest parts of his brain. He thought that maybe he shouldn’t have told Kuroo, that now for sure his new friend would keep away from him - but he felt his eyes grow wild and quickly turned back to stare when he heard Kuroo chuckling. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tsc,” he said “Your old teammates are dumb. You’re one of the best and most dedicated players, I’ve ever met. It’s stupid to run away, instead of trying to learn from you.” Kuroo told him, messing up his hair. He gave Bokuto a bright smile before continuing “And this? This is why I know you’ll be Japan’s number one ace one day.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bokuto was floored, his ears felt warm, and he was glad he had the training and tiredness to blame because he was sure he was blushing. He can’t even open his mouth to answer (not that he would know what to say) before Kuroo gave a low chuckle and looked up to him with daunting eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But I would be careful if I were you tho. I spent the whole night studying your moves and I’m a great student. The next time we play together, Nekoma will end you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was a threat and a joke at the same time. Kuroo was mocking him and including him in the taunt. It was a warning and a promise -‘ we will see each other again and I can not wait for it’. Bokuto couldn’t wait for it either. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Back at the event, Kuroo’s head is washed by the memory of Bokuto’s face telling him about how he felt, looking back to the hill and finding himself alone. Abandoned by the rest of the team. Kuroo had never seen him look so close to the word ‘broken’. He hated it. He wanted to fight the stupid teammates when he felt Bokuto pulling away. He looks to his friend, who is clearly in distress. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m leaving, I need some fresh air,” Bokuto says, taking off and fighting his way through the crowd and Kuroo immediately follows him as close as he can. Not hell nor heaven could make him leave Bokuto alone at that moment. When they are practically leaving the room, Kuroo spots the table that has been placed to work as a makeshift bar. In a moment of suave acting and quick thinking, he swipes away a bottle of champaign, before disappearing down the hallway with Bokuto.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They end up in the garden, sitting together side by side, shoulders and knees pressed against each other, on the stone bench, passing the bottle between each other. It’s the first time either of them drinks for real, and by half of the bottle Kuroo feels light-headed and Bokuto’s emotional side comes to light a little stronger. His eyes are prickly on the corners, and he is not crying, but he is three sips and one level of sadness away from doing so. Kuroo repeats the same things he has said the year before, the first time he heard the story, but Bokuto can’t take his heart away from that memory - from the feeling of being too much. Can’t untangle himself from the feeling that no one would ever want him around in the long term.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m intolerable,” he says, chuckling bitterly, turning to stare at Kuroo. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then let me be the one that tolerates you,” Kuroo says. His voice is soft and warm, like velvet on skin. His hand is cupping Bokuto’s face, and the touch spreads a wave of this tingly feeling through him. Bokuto blinks once or twice, unsure of what that means. His head feels fuzzy, and his heart is beating too fast, and he suddenly feels oh so very warm. He doesn’t know how to respond. But Kuroo is looking at him, right in the eyes, refusing to look away, to pull back, to leave him alone. Kuroo is staying, like he’s always done. Bokuto gulps and nods nervously. His eyes stay open and wide as he watches Kuroo get closer and closer, bridging the gap in between them - he only closes his eyes for a nanosecond before their lips touch. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Neither of them is sure of how much time passes, how long they stay there, hidden in the garden and surrounded by the breeze that marks the beginning of the evening. It doesn’t matter. Nothing else matters but each other. Bokuto kisses with the same electric passion he has inside the court, pouring all of his heart into it. Kuroo is gentle and hearty, but hungry. He is tender but demanding. Neither of them plans on letting the other down, on giving any less than their best into this. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kuroo kisses Bokuto because he can’t bear to see his friend tormented like that, but also because he is tired of dealing with the fluttering feeling he has in his stomach when Bokuto smiles, all by himself. He wants to kiss away every sadness and fill the space that is left with praise and admiration, to cover Bokuto in adoration and the caring softness that is reserved for people like him, who carry their heart on their sleeves, who shine too bright for this world, who can’t help but be so enchanting that some people feel compelled to push them away. But all Kuroo wants is to pull him closer, so he does.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bokuto lets himself be kissed and kisses Kuroo back, pouring all of himself into it. Because he wants to. Because Kuroo is attractive and kind and funny and too good for this world. Because from the moment that Kuroo touched his face, kissing him was all he could think about. Because now that he had kissed Kuroo he didn’t want to do anything else for the rest of his life. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They kiss the night away until the moon is high on the sky and the event is long over. There is no worry about what happened before, or what will happen tomorrow. There is only now, this very moment, and the relentless warmth of the other’s lips. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s fun. It’s a high Bokuto isn’t sure he will ever live down. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When they leave, leaning against each other, Bokuto can’t even remember why he had felt upset in the first place. Not when Kuroo, with all his warmth, sharp smile and undying loyalty, is right there by his side. Not when he knows Kuroo will never leave. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>You’re in a car with a beautiful boy, and he won’t tell you that he loves you, but he loves you. And you feel like you’ve done something terrible, like robbed a liquor store, or swallowed pills, or shovelled yourself a grave in the dirt, and you’re tired. You’re in a car with a beautiful boy, and you’re trying not to tell him that you love him, and you’re trying to choke down the feeling, and you’re trembling, but he reaches over, and he touches you, like a prayer for which no words exist, and you feel your heart taking root in your body like you’ve discovered something you didn’t even have a name for</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>― Richard Silken, You are Jeff</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Akaashi watches the outline of the city building pass through the train window, dark silhouettes contrasting against the pink sky behind it. He thinks it's strange that the vision seems to be the same, unchanging when everything else is different.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This is his last train ride with Bokuto, and he can’t help but think that it's funny that such a small action like riding the train together, sitting side by side with their shoulders and knees carefully pressed together, can feel so big and heavy just because it's the last time it's being done. As if they haven't been doing this every day for two years now. As if they haven't prepared themselves for this.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>One by one, the other Fukurodani seniors had left the train, leaving at their own stops. So now it was just Akaashi and Bokuto. In the end, it always felt like it was boiled down to the two of them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In the end, Akaashi’s time at Fukurodani could easily be boiled down to Bokuto. He was the reason why Akaashi applied there, why he kept playing volleyball, what drove him inside the court and why he had felt more alive than ever and looked forward to after class hours most days. It had always been about Bokuto. Even before he realized the extension of his own feelings. The fact that he would be alone next year made him feel weird like his head was dizzy and lacking some oxygen. It made him feel lost, even though it shouldn't. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Akaashi was a planner. He was always prepared for everything. He knew which courses he would be taking next year and to which universities he would apply to and to do what. He had known Bokuto would be graduating a whole year before him since they met, the moment becoming heavier and heavier on his mind since the day Akaashi saw Bokuto smile under the midday sun,  wet hair sticking to his forehead, offering him a hand to help him get up. Since the day Akaashi looked into his golden eyes and thought "I'm in love with you.". Although scary, it was true, and the sentence had been blasting into Akaashi’s mouth, eating him inside out every single day since then. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And yet, even with all of this in mind, it seemed that Bokuto’s last school day had sneaked upon him, making him feel unbalanced and unprepared. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The idea of riding the train alone in the future makes him anxious. It’s supposed to be a mundane thing, a part of the routine. But it’s different when he had always associated the seniors so strongly with the train ride. He has no idea how to survive such a small daily act alone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Akaashi shakes his head, trying to forget the future, to focus back on the present. He is here, sitting on the train after the graduation ceremony, with Bokuto. They are going home, side by side. He is not alone in this train, not yet. They are still together, at least for now. He still has the next few minutes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There is no one else in the cart but them, and if it did, it wouldn’t matter. Whenever they had been together, especially in days like this where the air felt heavy and everything had a touch of unrealness to it, it was like the rest of the world was behind a thick wall of fog. Like it didn’t even exist. There were only him and the warmth that Bokuto radiated, centimetres away from him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>To be together and alone, at the same time, it’s a strange parallel that seemed to be a pattern for them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bokuto had never known what it meant to be lonely. In all honesty, he was practically never alone, not really. He lived with both of his parents, and a dog and two older sisters. Ever since he was born, he had never known what it was like to be alone. Even when he was surrounded by a team that couldn’t understand his passion and dedication, couldn’t keep up with him, in and off the court, he still always had himself and his own things to focus on - so the presence of other people had never even bothered him. And then he met Akaashi, who was always there for him in all the ways possible - listening, practising extra sets, going up two floors to Bokuto’s classroom just to have lunch together every day, grounding him when he needed to. Bokuto had never known what it was like to be lonely. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Akaashi, on the other hand, saw loneliness as an old companion, a shadow constantly on the back of his head. He was the only child of two parents who were allergic to animal fur and had always been workaholics and high-achievers, traits that had been thoroughly passed to him through genetics and environmental conditioning. He had a hard time talking to people he had no intimacy with, and even a harder time getting close enough to develop that in the first place. He was alone, most of the time, at home, in the street, and in school. Sometimes he felt like he would be alone forever, destined to die and have his body found by his landlord two weeks later, his name forgotten. By the time he was ending middle school, Akaashi barely even tried to get to know people any more, thinking that it was too much effort for what would most likely turn into a fruitless conversation and dead-end friendships. People were boring anyway, he would tell himself.  And then he met Bokuto. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No one was as bright as Bokuto, no one had his smile and charisma. No one was stronger and pushed through harder, in Akaashi’s eyes. Bokuto was captain, ace and soul. He was the mind, heart and spirit of Fukurodani. But that came with its price - and Akaashi is very familiar with the negative repercussions that Bokuto has had to face in his life because of his intensity. Some people are just too bright for normal settings, stars among people. Akaashi only hoped that one day the world would look at him, watch him play, move and laugh, and see what he saw - That Bokuto was a sun among men. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At the same time, the amount of calm that Akaashi felt washing his body when they were together, was something unmatched. Another parallel. The year had been heavy, being co-captain and the overwhelming pressure of university and which career of work to choose from getting more and more real and present by the second. It was suffocating, and his anxiety attacks had been more and more frequent, the voice in his heads muffling the outside world and telling him that all of his nightmares would come true. Multiple times throughout the year he would find himself leaning his head back, having difficulty focusing on the present moment, on what was real and what was just his brain turning the worst possibility into reality. In these moments, he would look at the Bokuto, especially now with his departure from Fukurodani approaching and now becoming reality. He was doing it right now, the sadness and pre-nostalgia squeezing his heart with the fear of change, and he was so close to crying. And then Bokuto turns his head at him, like he had many times before, and smiles. The same bright, excited, and overwhelmingly kind smile he had given him since he joined the team.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sometimes Akaashi felt like he had been drowning for the most part of his life. Anxiety filling his lungs, fear of failure locking his throat, the weight of his own expectations pushing him down. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But sometimes, in fleeting moments throughout the past two years, Bokuto would look at him and smile. And Akaashi felt like he could breathe again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This had been his salvation for the past two years, and now it was ending, and there was nothing he could do about it. Only sit by Bokuto’s side, watching the sun go down through the dirty windows, and hope that this would be enough. That when Bokuto eventually forgot him, as Akaashi was sure he would, then it wouldn’t hurt as much because he would have these memories. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Akaashi” Bokuto’s voice comes to him softly, and yet is so unexpected that it scares him. He turns his head slowly, blinking at Bokuto’s large eyes looking at him and swallowing down this sudden need, of pulling him by the neck of his shirt and kissing him, that came with the act. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, Bokuto-San?” he asked, voice almost breaking a bit as he said his name.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re overthinking again,” he said, smiling and Akaashi gulped. Bokuto was far more observant than most people gave him credit for, and sometimes Akaashi was guilty of the same sin.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes. I’m sorry, it's been a day. How are you feeling? Did you enjoy the ceremony?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, it was cool, I guess. As cool as a ‘goodbye party’ can be” Bokuto said, shrugging. “How are you, though? What insane idea has the engines inside your head been turning on?” he asked, a caring smile on his face and Akaashi melted a little. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nothing much. Just thinking about how things are changing, that's all.” Bokuto nodded, looking away, eyes stuck on the blurry scenery outside the window. Suddenly he felt like it was very hard to look at Akaashi’s eyes. To know that he would be leaving them, that the piercing blue wouldn’t be part of his daily routine any more. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah. Lots of change happening,” he muttered, and Akaashi hummed quietly. “But not everything has to change. Just because I’m living,” he says, turning his head and looking back at Akaashi. Establishing eye contact so the other boy knows that he means it, that he is serious about this. Akaashi nods.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hopefully not.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not ‘hopefully’. They won’t change. You can still call me during your lunch breaks, and we can still hang out on weekends when neither of us has practice. And I’ll still watch your games, of course” He said smiling  “Can’t wait to see you win nationals next year” he jokes and Akaashi snorts. He lets out a smile, and sure, it’s tired and weak, but it’s still a smile so Bokuto counts as a win anyway. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We don’t know if that will happen.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know it will.” Akaashi looks at him with a raised eyebrow and Bokuto laughs “Hey, I have faith, ok? And I know your potential!” he tells him, before becoming slightly more serious - something unusual for him “I believe in you Akaashi. You’ll do great things, and I’ll be proud to watch you conquer them.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Akaashi shivers, feeling like he is being swallowed by Bokuto’s eyes. There was this constant tingle on the tip of his fingers, this want to grab Bokuto and pull him forward. To thank him. To tell him he loved him. To kiss him. To kiss him. To kiss him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Akaashi” Bokuto whispers and Akaashi realizes a moment too late that his hand has moved on his own, grasping Bokuto’s jacket with an embarrassing strength. The intensity of someone who doesn’t plan on ever letting go.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Bokuto-San” He whispers, ready to apologize, but Bokuto doesn’t let him. He doesn’t even let Akaashi open his mouth, already halfway there, lips crashing together. His hand is warm on Akaashi’s cheek, and he can feel the calluses of years of training against his skin. A sign of his love for the sport they share, of his dedication. A physical scar that marks one of the many reasons why Akaashi loves him so much.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Akaashi isn’t sure when he moved, when he pulled him forward, when his hand found Bokuto’s shoulder, when his head tilted in just the right angle and when their legs became entangled. He isn’t sure how much time passes, and in which station they are in. It doesn’t matter. Akaashi has wanted this for so long it almost doesn’t feel real. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bokuto pulls away, breathless, and Akaashi laughs. And then they are both laughing, eyes glistening with happiness. Outside, the sun is going down faster and faster, the night swallowing the day. Distantly, there is a metallic feminine voice informing them that they are a few stations away from where they should have got down. Back at home, there are piles of homework and university applications on Akaashi's desk, and in Bokuto’s there’s a suitcase ready to be packed for his moving. The future is loud and knocking at their doors, but for the first time in months, Akaashi can’t bring himself to care. The world outside doesn’t exist, there’s only this moment, and the warmth of Bokuto’s lips on his. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>
    <br/>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>The real violence, the violence I realized was unforgivable, is the violence that we do to ourselves when we're too afraid to be who we really are</span>
  </em>
  <span>."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>― Nomi Marks, Sense8 s1e9</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Akaashi feels dumb. It’s not something that happens too often - he usually leans toward being anxious or afraid he is being annoying or failing in some way. But right now, he just feels silly and frustrated with himself. He can hear his friends talking loudly, probably already on their way out, and he is still locked away inside Bokuto’s bedroom, in the apartment he and Kuroo share in Tokyo.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Because that’s where he is. In Tokyo. For the Tokyo Pride Parade. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He had let Bokuto convince him to come over and spend the weekend, his original intentions being to just hang around the apartment as they got ready for it, and then stay as they went to the parade and later receive them to have dinner and talk about how their day had been. Akaashi was moving to Tokyo in a few weeks anyway, for college, and this would be a good opportunity to get a sense of the city, the general feeling of walking down the streets and what it felt like to live there, as well as consult on rent and general grocery prices - something very important to keep in mind. Besides, he knew Kenma was also going to join them, which made him even more excited and comfortable with the idea of hanging out during a whole weekend. In all honesty, Akaashi had fully expected that he would also prefer to stay at home as well, but when Akaashi arrived at the apartment, he was surprised to find Kenma laying down on the sofa with Kuroo on top of him, passively allowing the older boy to put rainbow coloured makeup on him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kenma had not only made it clear his intentions of going, but also and his expectations that Akaashi would also join them in the parade, and Akaashi’s mouth was completely dry, and he had a little difficulty breathing when he nodded, agreeing to go. And that’s how he had found himself sitting on the couch, as Bokuto and Kuroo dance to Queen, their faces shining with tricoloured glitter (blue, purple and pink for Kuroo, yellow, pink and bright blue for Bokuto), and Kenma playing a soothing game on his phone to relax him before they leave.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ok, I think I’m ready,” Kenma says, and Akaashi’s heart stops. Because this is it - this is the time to leave, to go outside to a pride parade. He had softly refused the offerings of getting his makeup done like the other boys, or any flag or bottom to put on his clothes but it still was...overwhelming. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s not quite that Akaashi was in the closet, he didn’t think that if anyone asked if he was straight he would lie and said yes. It’s just that no one ever bothered asking him in the first place, and he was more than happy to let them think and assume whatever they wanted about him, with his lack of social life, plain clothes and lack of any characteristic that may give any small indication of any stereotype that might give away his real sexuality. It was a weird situation, to not be in the closet but also to not tell anyone that you’re not in the closet, cause deep down you want them to not even question the existence of the closet in the first place. Akaashi just wants to exist, to love whoever he loves and kiss whoever he wants to kiss, but he knows better than that. Knows that this world is violent and unkind to people like him. Knows that the closet exists for a reason. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So when Kenma tells them he is ready, and the other boys move on to put on their shoes and leave, Akaashi mumbles a weak excuse about needing to go get his coat that he left in the bedroom. It’s a lie, he didn’t go to any of the bedrooms. He is still wearing his coat. But he needs to step away, and calm himself down, even if just for a minute. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He ends up entering the first door he can find, which he hoped it would be the bathroom but it’s actually a bedroom. He hoped it would be Bokuto’s bedroom, but the pile of chemistry books on the table tells him it’s probably Kuroo’s and Akaashi closes his with even more strength, hoping the older boy won’t mind. Out of all three of them, Kuroo is the one he is less close to, and he hopes this won’t make their already fragile friendship awkward in any way. Akaashi sits on the bed with his head in his hands, breathing deeply and trying to calm down, to convince himself to stop being so afraid and caring so much about possible consequences, to stop being such a coward-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Akaashi’s train of evil thoughts is interrupted by the sound of someone walking in and softly closing the door behind them. Akaashi doesn’t have it in him to look up, only feels the warmth of another body approaching and stops right in front of him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Akaashi,” Kuroo says, crouching in front of him “Hey - talk to me. What’s going on?” Akaashi takes a deep breath, shuddering a bit.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can’t do this.” he says, his voice cracking “I’m sorry, I can’t, I-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shh, it’s ok,” Kuroo says, his hands covering Akaashi’s tights, and squeezing it lightly. “You don’t have to, ok? You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But you guys want to. You invited me and I said yes even though I knew I wasn’t ready for it, and now I’m holding you guys back and-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re not holding anyone back. We invited you because you wanted to hang out with you, and we were going to do something fun that we thought you might enjoy. We should have asked you first if you were completely comfortable with it, but we didn’t. I’m sorry.”</span>
</p>
<p><span>“No!” Akaashi looks up, frantic “Please don’t apologize, It’s my fault! I-”</span><span><br/></span> <span>“Akaashi” Kuroo tells him, voice stern “It’s ok. You didn’t do anything wrong, ok? C’mon, breathe with me.” Kuroo says before taking a deep breath in and then exhaling slowly. Akaashi imitates him. He knows what Kuroo is doing, has seen him do it with Kenma a few times before. Controlling an anxiety attack before it even happens. They do it once more before Akaashi speaks again.</span></p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, I’m delaying you guys, Kenma and Bokuto must be impatient...”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re not.” Kuroo replies “I told them to go when I saw you coming in. It’s just us here, and I won’t go anywhere until you feel better” Kuroo assures him. Akaashi nods, swallowing dry.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry. You’re missing out because of me-” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not missing out on anything,” Kuroo says, interrupting Akaashi again. “I’m with a friend, who needed some company and some help getting out of his head. There’s nothing more important to me than that. Besides, the parade will be there next year, and the next one, and the one after that. I’ve got plenty of time to go. And so will you, if you ever get comfortable with it.” He adds, and Akaashi sighs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t think I’ll ever get comfortable with it.” He admits. “It’s so stupid. I feel stupid. It’s not like I’m ashamed or hate myself or wish I was different, any of that. I wouldn’t even lie about it if someone asked, I just… I’m just scared. And it’s such a public thing, and TV channels will be covering it, anyone could see and I... I don’t think I’m ready for it. Not yet, at least.” Akaashi explains. He feels the tension slowly bleeding out from his shoulders as he talks about it, Kuroo nodding and making low encouraging noises as to him to keep going. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No one is ever ready for it, I think” Kuroo points out, “I think it’s just a matter of having courage.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m afraid” Akaashi whispers “I’m not courageous” Kuroo squeezes his tights, and gives him a small smile as he tucks a rebellious strand of hair behind Akaashi’s ear.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You don’t have to be courageous. You just have to be unafraid.”  He says, and Akaashi chuckles a little. It feels like an oxymoron, but he knows it isn’t. There is a difference between the boldness of shamelessly being yourself in the face of a conservative society and the simplicity of finding comfort in stating who you are. Akaashi would have never thought of Kuroo to be anything but the first category, but right now, as he calmly talks to him about, stating the facts as if he has known and repeated them for a while now. There is a familiarity in his voice that Akaashi finds hard to ignore. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What if I can’t?” Akaashi asks, licking his lips and looking up. Kuroo is close, very close. A part of Akaashi wishes he would come closer, and as if reading his mind, Kuroo does. His hand plays with another strand of  Akaashi’s hair.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then let me take your mind off it,” Kuroo replies. Their lips are almost touching, millimetres away, but he doesn’t move. Akaashi is breathing hard against him, but he won’t say a thing “I won’t do anything if you don’t tell me to, Keiji”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The way he says his name drives Akaashi insane. He almost chokes for a second before nodding quickly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ok. Yes. Yes.” He whispers, holding in a breath</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes?” Kuroo asks, waiting for confirmation. His lips are hovering not even a centimetre from Akaashi’s, and it’s driving Akaashi insane.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes Ku-” he is interrupted by Kuroo’s lips crashing against his. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Akaashi expected Kuroo to kiss like he’s oxygen-deprived, with the intensity of someone who just got a water bottle after days in the desert - but once again, Kuroo surprises him. The kiss is gentle, although demanding. Kuroo pulls but never pushes. He gives it all to Akaashi, making sure to carefully cradle his face and let him breath when he needs, peppering his cheek and shoulders with smaller kisses as if to not overload him. As if Akaashi is fragile, and Kuroo is afraid that if he asks too much, kisses too hard, he’ll break down and push him away. In different circumstances, Akaashi may have felt offended by it, but right now, as he is still coming down from the close call to an anxiety attack, he appreciates the tenderness and patience, allowing Kuroo’s warm mouth to bring him back to a more peaceful state of mind. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Later, as they both lay down in Kuroo’s bed, Akaashi’s head pressed against Kuroo’s shoulder while Kuroo played with his hair, the talk about the parade again. About how it’s wonderful and important, but not the only way to demonstrate pride in yourself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Pride doesn’t always have to be loud” Kuroo tells him, looking back at him. “You don’t have to show everyone or parade it if you don’t feel comfortable about it. Your identity is about you, and you alone. As long as you feel it, then that’s what matters.” Akaashi nods, slowly digesting the words. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re kinder than I gave you credit for, Kuroo-san,” Akaashi says and Kuroo laughs, throwing his head back. The loudness doesn’t make Akaashi flinch, instead, he finds himself oddly fond of the sound. He looks at Kuroo, with a soft smile on his face and Kuroo smiles back. Bright, confident, understanding. Akaashi wants to have the image ingrained in his mind forever. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Akaashi, you should know better by now,” Kuroo says, slowly standing up and putting a hand over his chest. “I am always this kind,” he says, and it’s Akaashi’s turn to laugh. He is stricken by the memory of seventeen years old Kuroo, in ugly gym shorts and the same messy hair, repeating the same sentence to another young man lost in his own fears of taking a step further. In the end, this really is who Kuroo has always been. It’s no wonder that Kenma and Bokuto had always been so drawn to him, wanting him closer. Akaashi had to admit to himself that the nervousness and hesitancy he had always felt around him was unnecessary, really. Kuroo would never do something that made him uncomfortable on purpose. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“C’mon,” Kuroo says, dragging him up by the hand “Bokuto will come back with the hunger of an army and Kenma doesn’t eat much, but he dehydrates easily and gets grumpy if not well-fed” he stops before turning to Akaashi and adding “You know, kind of like a big baby,” he says, and Akaashi can’t help but giggle at the observation “So we better get something tasty for them when they come back” Kuroo continues, dragging him to the kitchen by the hand. Akaashi lets him. Right then he would let Kuroo drag him anywhere. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>The enormity of my desire disgusts me</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>― Richard Silken, War of Foxes</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The noise levels outside the bedroom are louder than it was probably allowed by the law, enough to break anyone's concentration, but Kenma doesn’t really pay attention, eyes focused on the screen in front of him. His character, in a bright purple outfit, mercilessly sways his sword against his rival - a girl with yellow shorts and top that are way too revealing for Kenma’s liking. It would be like any other Friday night if it wasn’t for the party roaring in his living room.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kenma had moved in with Kuroo over a year ago, right before his first semester in college began, and although he knew that those watching from an outside perspective, that didn’t really know Kuroo, might have thought of him as a party animal socialite, that was actually the first party that had ever been thrown in their apartment since he moved in (hell, he was pretty sure it was the first party Kuroo had attended in months, slaving himself away in college and internships, one after the other). It was all for a good reason, however. Tonight was Bokuto’s last night in Tokyo - in the morning, he would move to Osaka and join his position as an official outside hitter for the MSBY Black Jackals. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Everyone was very proud, and almost equally sad, of course. No one wanted to see him go and move away, but they were all so happy for him, for achieving his dream and making a name for himself so early in his career, that a commemoration of sorts was definitely needed, an obligation really. If anyone deserved a party, it was Bokuto. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When he told them the news, Akaashi politely congratulated him and completely failed in hiding his tears. He did lock himself in the bathroom for a while, coming out with a very red face and puffy eyes, but the moment Bokuto hugged him and said ‘I’ll miss hanging out with you Keiji’, he was crying all over again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kuroo was a shameless crier. Always had been, with the brief exception of when he was team captain. He congratulated Bokuto, and sobbed on his shoulder, and then gave the brightest smile as they talked about his future, the new team, Osaka, how Bokuto would probably get lost every day for the first three months and then just three times a week from then on because he would probably get distracted with all the wonders of the city. Kuroo made him promise to not get a new best friend, and Bokuto told him that that was ridiculous, that no one could ever substitute Akaashi. Kuroo said he hoped Bokuto slept on the train and woke up in the wrong city, while Akaashi went back to the bathroom to cry again. Bokuto laughed and winked at Kenma, who was snorting at the whole situation. Dumbasses.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kenma... In all honesty, Kenma didn’t know how to feel. Out of all four of them, their tiny quartet that had just stuck together and followed each other around post-high school, Bokuto was the one he was the least close with. They still hung out a lot, Bokuto always trying to learn Kenma’s favourite video games and playing with him, and Kenma allowing himself to be dragged through streets to shop for gifts and run other minor errands that Bokuto had to do, and Kenma had to admit that in between all three of his friends, Bokuto always had the funniest memes. They were friends, of course they were. But it felt different from what he had with Akaashi, all the coffee dates with soft-spoken conversations filled with sharp jabs and dumb gossip, talking bad about stupid people that had met during the day. And obviously, it was very different from his relationship with Kuroo - but then again, everything was different when it came to Kuroo. They just had known each other for too long, there was no competition on the same level. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kenma knew he would miss Bokuto. He just wasn’t sure of how much it would truly affect him, or how he would feel about it. He had hoped that by Bokuto’s last week in town he would have found peace with his feelings, but now his friends were going crazy outside his room, the living room filled with ex Nekoma, Karasuno and Fukurodani students, and he was still as lost as before. Kenma felt like there was no closure between him and Bokuto, but he wasn’t even sure if he needed any, to begin with.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His train of thought is interrupted by the change of sound height behind him - louder and then muffled again. Someone had entered his bedroom. Kenma looks over his shoulder and his eyebrows shoot up when he finds Bokuto smiling at him from the doorway.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey there,” He says, approaching and letting his body fall with a thud on Kenma’s bed, beside him. “Whatcha doing?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Playing this new game,” Kenma says, voice low. He bites his lip, hesitates, and gives a side look to Bokuto. “I’m sorry I didn’t join the party, it’s not that-” he tries to explain himself but Bokuto interrupts him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nah, it’s cool dude. Parties ain’t your thing, I’m not upset at all.” He shrugs, smiling. Kenma’s face feels a little warm, and he lets a small ‘oh’ escape his lips. Bokuto understands, of course he does. He has always had a heart that was too big and observational skills that were far too underestimated by most people. Kenma is stupidly grateful to have him in his life.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you” Kenma whispers, and Bokuto squeezes him tight turning his head to him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No problem at all, I get it. That’s why I’m here actually.” he says “Not that I don’t love everyone else out there, but I wanted to hang with you a bit. Get that one-on-one quality time” Bokuto says, wiggling his eyebrows, with a playful tone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Please never do that with your eyebrows again,” Kenma asks, making his signature face of disgust.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bokuto throws his head back in a laugh, hair messy, face red from laughter and maybe a little bit of alcohol - And he looks so good. Unfairly good. At that moment, it hits Kenma that he really, really wants to kiss him. He wasn’t quite sure how he had managed to ignore, suppress or simply be unaware of his own attraction for Bokuto for so long, but it was so obvious and so on his face, it made Kenma want to scream a little. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bastard. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ok, ok, c’mon let me play with you. Does this have multiplayer options?” Bokuto asks, sitting up. Kenma nods, silently, and changes the settings of the game. He re-starts and helps Bokuto pick his character, giving a quick rundown of each one of the options' backstory, abilities and specials. Bokuto ignores him completely, picking the physically stronger character of them all.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He looks like me! I have to pick him, we’re bros! He even has white hair” Bokuto yells, pointing at the screen, and Kenma rolls his eyes fondly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They play three rounds. It doesn’t last more than 15 minutes, Kenma almost immediately knocking Bokuto out. By the end of the third, Kenma is giggling, an evil glee in his eyes while Bokuto pouts.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This is unfair. You’re supposed to be nice to me, this is my party.” He says, but Kenma only laughs more and shrugs with an undeniable level of pride. “Damn, I’m going to miss this. There is no feeling like getting beat up on a video game by the one and only Kozume Kenma.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ugh, you sound like Kuro, stop it,” Kenma says, pushing his shoulder and looking down, embarrassed, but Bokuto only laughs at him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m serious though, I’m going to miss this”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Losing?” Kenma asks, scrunching up his nose, and Bokuto shakes his head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This. Everything. Tokyo. Everyone else. You.” He says, and Kenma can feel himself blushing. He gulps, his throat too dry for his taste.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah… I’m going to miss you too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah?” Bokuto asks, and Kenma nods, giving him a soft smile. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah. But it’s for a good reason, right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah it is,” Bokuto says, looking up. “It’s for everything I dreamed of.” He murmurs and Kenma nods and pushes his shoulder lightly again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re going to do great.” Bokuto grins, all bright hopes and burning futures. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks, Kenma.” He tells him, before approaching his face, squinting “Now be honest, are you going to miss having me as the best video game rival of all times?” he asks, and Kenma chokes down a burst of laughter.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not really. You’re so bad at this, it’s not even satisfying to win. It’s just too easy” Kenma jokes and Bokuto looks at him, mouth slightly open, fake-shocked by the audacity.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ok, so let’s make a deal!” Bokuto replies and Kenma raises an eyebrow.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What type of deal?” he asks, curious. Bokuto smirks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We play another round, and whoever wins gets a prize.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A prize?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yep” Bokuto says, and winks at him “C’mon Kenma, we both know you love a little competition.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kenma wants to kiss him so badly, it revolts him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fine. Let’s do it,” he says, and Bokuto’s eyes sparkle.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They play again, and it’s definitely a little harder than the rounds before - Bokuto getting more used to the character and the controller, and with an extra pump of motivation with the deal. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kenma still wins, as anyone with minimal thinking skills would have guessed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He turns back to Bokuto, puffing his chest with pride and a snarky smile on his face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And may I know where my prize is?” he asks, with an eyebrow raised, and Bokuto smirks at him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Right here,” Bokuto says and kisses him. Kenma doesn’t close his eyes, so he can see the goofy grin on Bokuto’s face as he pulls away, eyes still closed  “Sorry, I’ve just been wanting to do this for a long time”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh,” Kenma said, quietly. Bokuto doesn't move, and neither does he. “You can… You can do it again. If you want to.” Kenma says, after gulping. Bokuto’s eyes snap open, and he looks at Kenma with his eyebrows raised so high that Kenma feels the need to blink and shrink a little under his stare. Sometimes, the physical comparisons that people made between Bokuto and an Owl really did justice. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re not saying that just for being nice to me because I’m leaving tomorrow, are you?” Kenma snorts.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“When have I ever been nice without wanting?” Bokuto chuckles and nods.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fair enough” he replies, and then they are kissing again, and again, and again, all warm hands with soft video game music in the background. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bokuto moves to Osaka the next day. He and Kenma text weekly, a warm feeling in both of their chests every time a new message comes up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And, at least one a month, all four boys join in a video chat, playing games, watching movies, or just chatting for hours without an end, basking in the feeling of listening to the other voices coming out of their headphones. Regardless of distance, it makes them closer. It makes them feel like they’re home. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. what are we now? i do not believe this world has created a language large enough to describe this love</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“<em> Sometimes, you do things and you do them not because you're thinking but because you're feeling. Because you're feeling too much. And you can't always control the things you do when you're feeling too much </em>.”</p>
<p>― Benjamin Alire Sanchez, Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Akaashi looks out of the window. It’s raining again like it has been doing every single day for the past week. He stretches and rubs his face, before looking at the clock on his phone. Almost 7:30 pm, time for him to leave. His eyes sting a little, and when he looks around the office he realizes without surprise that all of his colleagues have already left the office, and he is the last one as usual. This is a common occurrence, routine really. It’s not that he is slow or slacks off, it’s more that he has this terrible habit of piling up project after project. Akaashi keeps finding himself promising to be able to take care of it, rushing to build a curriculum, to expand his experience and put his name in the editing industry. Hoping desperately that if he does that then maybe, just maybe, he’ll be able to move one from manga’s to the literature department as he had dreamed of when going into college. </p>
<p>He fumbles with his phone, sending a quick text and waiting for the answer, before following his usual ‘end of the day’ routine: turning off his computer, organizing the piles of paper he had been analysing for the past hours, pinning a piece of paper with his to-do list on the corkboard above his desk. He stands up, grabbing his coat, bag and umbrella even though he knows he won’t be needing it. On his way out he throws away over 5 cups of coffee like he did every day. Luckily, caffeine addiction was his only vice in adulthood after he quit smoking. When he leaves the building,  right outside, waiting for him with a smile and a bag of take out food, is Kuroo. Like he has been doing practically every week since Akaashi had moved to Tokyo to invest in his career.</p>
<p>If he is being honest, he wasn’t sure how it had started. Sure, they all were still friends, they were all in a group chat, and Akaashi texted both Kenma and Bokuto daily. He knew that he and Kuroo hanging out wasn’t something odd in any way, technically they were friends. He simply didn’t expect them to become so close, that is all.</p>
<p>But then Bokuto got a contract with MSBY and moved to Osaka, and Kenma’s career and company were both rising in success, and so he was always busy. And, in all honesty, Kuroo wasn’t exactly someone who had a lot of spare time and neither was Akaashi. But they lived only 20 minutes away from each other, and their days off were the same and their work hours were more stable than Kenma’s insane schedule. And so they started hanging out every now and then, just so Akaashi wouldn’t feel lonely in the new city, just until he made friends. And Akaashi did! He worked with some lovely people (and some insane, but that was beyond the point), and it had been surprisingly easy for him to hop into conversation and find common interests with his peers. </p>
<p>Still, he and Kuroo hang out often. Very often. Somehow, somewhere along the way, it became a weekly tradition for him to pick up Akaashi from work and either they went grocery shopping together, or they had takeout. They would talk about their day while having dinner, and then maybe watch a movie. And then, in an even more subtle and surprising turn of events, somewhere along the way the kisses began. Goodbye kisses, and welcome kisses, and ‘I missed you kisses’. There were some ‘good morning’ kisses here and there as well, although not as often as they both woke up way too early, and Akaashi was still too scared to name whatever this was. Giving it a name would be to admit that this was something, and that meant he would have to face his feelings, so tangled and confusing he barely understood half of the time.</p>
<p>It would be a lie to say he wasn’t still in love with Bokuto, and he knew. They had never kissed again, but there had been so many moments in which Akaashi thought they would, and the mere possibility of that happening was enough to string Akaashi’s heart. It would also be a lie to say he didn’t feel slightly out of breath every time he saw Kenma, his long soft hair and golden eyes melting Akaashi inside every time they were set on him. Kenma was pretty in the way no human being had the right to be, and it drove Akaashi insane every time he had the audacity to open the door in ratty Nekoma sweatpants and oversized stolen hoodies and still look like an angel that had decided to take a stroll down on earth. But with Kuroo, it had been different. Not that Akaashi thought that he was ugly, no one with a pair of eyes would dare to say that Kuroo was anything under a solid 9.5 on a general attractiveness scale, and Akaashi had been very aware of that for years now. It’s simply that he didn’t really expect Kuroo to be someone so easy to know, to care about. He was so attentive and respectful, always double-checking if Akaashi was ok and if he needed help with anything or wanted to cancel and have some time alone. Kenma once had described him as ‘awfully kind’ and Akaashi had grown to understand more and more what he meant by that. Kuroo was just the type of person you couldn’t not care about. He just pulled you in, it was impossible to stay away. And he was funny. Not in the absurd but endearing way that Bokuto was, or in the sarcastic and borderline rude way that Kenma was, but in his own, dorky way. He told Akaashi stupid puns and made the worst imitations and sang completely off-key when cooking, and if Akaashi laughed he would drag him to dance with him in the middle of the living room. And Akaashi laughed a lot. </p>
<p>In the end, as confusing and unexpected as it was, Akaashi couldn’t really help himself but feel attracted to him, to feel himself being pulled in his direction. And so, Kuroo became a stable part of his life.</p>
<p>And now here they are.</p>
<p>“Hey” Kuroo greets him, raising his left hand carrying the plastic bags “I hope you’re in the mood for fried rice.”</p>
<p>“I’m always in the mood for fried rice,” Akaashi says, with a smile, before joining him under the umbrella “That looks like a lot, though” he points out, squinting at the bag that has easily 3 or 4 boxes. “Are you planning on feeding an army or something like that?” Kuroo hums, noncommittally.</p>
<p>“Something like that” Kuroo says and when Akaashi eyes him even more suspiciously, he laughs out loud, head thrown back “C’mon, don’t be like that, your vision is going to get even worse.” He teases and Akaashi hits him in the shoulder, faking being offended. It only makes Kuroo laugh even more. “How was your day?” He asks, setting the walking pace for the both of them and Akaashi sighs before replying, easily falling beside him as they make their way to his place. Just like every other day.</p>
<p>Or it would be if Akaashi hadn’t recognized an impossibly familiar figure standing in front of his building.</p>
<p>“Bokuto-san?” He asked, shocked, and Bokuto turned him, waving with a huge smile on his face.</p>
<p>“Akaashi!” He said, arms raised in excitement. “Bro!”</p>
<p>“Bro! You made it” Kuroo said happily, and completely unsurprised. “I hope you’re hungry, I got us fried rice!”<br/>“I did! And yes, I’m starving!” Bokuto said, rolling his eyes back “I came straight from practice, and forgot to buy snacks before getting on the train.”</p>
<p>Akaashi’s eyes keep jumping from one to the other, filled with absolute confusion and slight annoyance at how they are talking as if it’s the most normal thing in the world, for them to be meeting to have dinner at his place on a Thursday.</p>
<p>“Excuse me, did I miss something? Bokuto-san, what are you doing here?”</p>
<p>“Oh, I have a game on Saturday!” Bokuto explains, and Akaashi huffs.</p>
<p>“Yes, I know that” Because of course he does “But shouldn’t you come only on Saturday morning, with the rest of the team?</p>
<p>“Oh, they gave us Friday off and practice ended early today, so I was talking to Kuroo, and he told me I should come earlier, to hang out!” Akaashi turns to Kuroo</p>
<p>“You planned this?” He asked, with an eyebrow raised and Kuroo scoffed, raising an eyebrow back and smirking. </p>
<p>“Are you going to tell me you didn’t miss him, Akaashi?” Kuroo’s voice is filled with provocations in between the lines, and Akaashi can feel his face getting red. He opens his mouth to reply, but comes out empty and is secretly relieved when Bokuto interrupts him.</p>
<p>“Aw, Akaashi, you didn’t miss me?” He asks, almost pouting and Akaashi stutters an ‘of course I did’, nervously, which makes Bokuto smile again “Oh, good! Because I missed you!” Akaashi can feel himself get even more red and Kuroo is just laughing at him, and Akaashi thinks he might murder him.</p>
<p>“Why don’t we go inside? Not that I don’t love teasing Akaashi, but I’d much rather not be under the rain, and the fried rice is getting cold.” Kuroo says, rushing Bokuto inside the building and winking at Akaashi as they follow him to the elevators. Akaashi is not sure if he wants to choke him or kiss him. Maybe both.</p>
<p>Later that night, Kuroo stands in the kitchen counter of Akaashi’s apartment, cleaning and putting things away, as Bokuto and Akaashi talk standing on the other side. The warmth of the nice dinner and the good conversation has set a cosy mood in the room, and all the three of them feel soft and mellow.</p>
<p>“How did your meeting on Tuesday go? Were you able to deliver the chapter you were revising?” Bokuto asks, and Akaashi nods, a soft smile on his face, happy that such a mundane detail got remembered by someone that had such an intense and busy routine.</p>
<p>“Yeah, it went well. Did Kenma tell you he will be able to join us in your game?”</p>
<p>“Oh yeah,” Bokuto replies, “He told me when I said I was coming. We’re also hanging out tomorrow afternoon, he wants to see me reacting to one of his new games.”</p>
<p>“He just wants to see you scream scared,” Akaashi said laughing and Bokuto laughed as well because he knew Akaashi was right, but he was going to do it anyway. They both would do anything for Kenma, really. </p>
<p>Kuroo watches them, feeling his heart light and warm. There's this voice in the back of his head, that has been incessant for months now, and has been getting louder and louder by the moment. And Kuroo has been fighting it for so long, because he doesn’t want to set himself up for rejection or pain, but god the thoughts are so constant and so good, and he wants so much to make it a reality. So much that maybe, it’s worth taking the risk. When Akaashi laughs, eyes wrinkling, and rests his head on Bokuto’s shoulder, Kuroo’s heart leaps, and he realizes that he really has no other option but to say it. So he does. </p>
<p>“I think we should be together. Like, officially.” Kuroo says out loud, breaking the moment, and both Akaashi and Bokuto stare at him, surprised by his sudden outburst. Akaashi looks completely panicked, and Bokuto is at least surprised, but there is still a sort of glimmer in his eye when he looks back at Kuroo. It’s what pushes him to keep going. “I mean, it’s not like we haven’t. Akaashi, as much as you enjoy pretending you don’t like me and calling me a pain in the ass sometimes, I’m sorry to inform you that we’ve been going on dates pretty much every week ever since you moved to Tokyo. And I think we are both generally happier whenever Bokuto comes back in town from training.” He states simply. Bokuto turns back to Akaashi, a huge smile on his face.</p>
<p>“It makes you happier when I’m here?”</p>
<p>“I, uh…” Akaashi starts speaking before hiding his face in his hands “God, Kuroo-san, you really are a pain in the ass.” He says, voice becoming muted and strained</p>
<p>“Is that a no?” Bokuto asks, and the light tone of sadness and fear in his voice is enough to make Akaashi look up in a panic</p>
<p>“No! I mean YES! I mean…” Akaashi sighs before looking down once again and Kuroo does his best to stifle his laughter watching him struggle “Of course it makes me happy having you around Bokuto-San. Surely you... Surely you know how I’ve felt about you in high school. How I still feel about you.” Akaashi’s voice is barely a whisper, so heavy with suppressed feelings and shyness, all covered in the same feeling of ‘undeserving of the other’ that he had felt through the past 6 years of his life. Kuroo is no longer smiling. </p>
<p>“Keiji,” When Bokuto speaks, his voice is soft as clouds. He seems to be very aware that Akaashi is about to shatter and so the room requires a new level of awareness, of carefulness with his words, of quietness in his tone. “You never said anything. I kissed you on graduation day and then… And then you never brought it up again. I just assumed you didn’t feel the same, that you didn’t want to let me down. So I didn’t try any more.”</p>
<p>“Oh,” Akaashi says, his eyes still stuck on the floor. “I thought you might have done it as an impulsive decision since it was your last day and all…” He confesses “So I never mentioned again, and then you didn’t either so… I just assumed you regretted it.”</p>
<p>“I could never regret anything, when it comes to you,” Bokuto says, voice more certain now. “I mean, except not kissing you again. I regret that.” Akaashi looks up again, surprise and yearning clear in his eyes. “I’d kiss you every day if I could,” Bokuto tells him. </p>
<p>“Oh. I feel the same way.” Akaashi admits, face extremely red, voice wavering a bit. </p>
<p>The whole time, Kuroo watches, feeling his chest warm with the scene. He smiles softly, knowing that they would be fine regardless.</p>
<p>“Well, it was about time,” Kuroo said, his usual provocative tone with a dash of fondness. “I thought I’d die before finally seeing you two confess to each other.” </p>
<p>Bokuto laughs, and Akaashi rolls his eyes, annoyed.</p>
<p>“You really are a pain in the ass, Kuroo-San”</p>
<p>“You didn’t seem to mind it when I slept over last week though,” Kuroo added and Akaashi’s eyes went so wide his eyebrows disappeared behind his hair. “Oh, don’t worry about it too much, Bokuto and I also have our own fun whenever he comes to town and you aren't around. I don’t think any of us have grounds to judge the other here. I think all of us have been enjoying each other’s company for a while now. I was really just waiting for you two to get your shit together, but as it seemed that this wouldn’t happen naturally, I decided to give it a little push” Kuroo explains, and Akaashi thinks he might collapse. He might simply die right there in the middle of his living room. Bokuto is looking between the both of them, with expectation in his eyes, anticipating the next move.</p>
<p>“I mean,” He starts “I’m not opposed to the idea. At all, actually.” As he says it, Akaashi turns to him, from Kuroo, and stares at him.</p>
<p>“You’re not?”</p>
<p>“No, not really. As I said, I always want to kiss you, and Kuroo and I have had this on and off friends-with-benefits-thing since, what, high school?” He asks, turning to Kuroo, who nods confirming. </p>
<p>“High school?? You two have been together since high school?” Akaashi is practically squealing “Why did none of you tell me that?” </p>
<p>“Well, it was never an official thing or anything, so…” Bokuto explained, “And you’ve also been with Kuroo, from what I’ve heard.” He points out, but his voice tone is light-hearted, free of judgment.</p>
<p>“Well, I... We…” Akaashi sighs once again. “It wasn’t official. I guess that’s why I never mentioned it as well.”  He slowly turns to look at Kuroo “Doesn’t mean I never took it seriously though. Or that I wouldn’t have considered it if you mentioned the possibility.” Kuroo smiles at him, and nods, before turning to Bokuto. </p>
<p>“Bo, do you want to kiss me? Like, in the long term?” Kuroo asked, matter-of-factly. Bokuto gave a signature bright grin, with a touch of softness in it. </p>
<p>“Yeah. Yeah, I do.”<br/>“Awesome. Cause I feel the same way about both of you, and I don’t really see why we have to pretend that we don’t feel that way.”</p>
<p>“You know, I wouldn’t complain about the idea of waking up with the both of you by my side. Might make it harder to go back to Osaka though, I have to admit,” Bokuto adds, and both him and Kuroo smile at each other, filled with want and excitement. Bokuto turns to Akaashi, who is very quiet, and lightly touches his face, calling his attention “What do you think?”</p>
<p>“What will people think?” Akaashi asks, panicked.</p>
<p>“Aren't you tired of living for the sake of others?” Bokuto asks him.</p>
<p>And it hurts because it's true. Akaashi had this awful tendency of changing to fit whoever demands ever since he could remember, adapting himself to the environment, calling less attention and working as hard as he could so he could feel like he belonged. Like if he worked hard enough, blended in enough, used a mask that was pleasant enough, his existence in that place was justified.</p>
<p>Akaashi never had to do that when he was around them. He always felt accepted. Warm. Wanted. </p>
<p>Loved. </p>
<p>Akaashi covers his face with both hands, breath getting heavy as he weighs the pros and cons inside his head. </p>
<p>The idea of ever presenting this to the world is enough to make his anxiety go through the roof and for bile to rise up his throat. What if someone says something? What if someone does something? Bokuto could lose his career. Kuroo could get fired. He could get fired. All of them could be on the receiving end of attacks. Of violence.</p>
<p>Akaashi blinks, his brain suddenly filling with the memories of the past few months of his life. He thinks of the times he heard about the violence that people like them suffer. He thinks about how, growing up, he never saw men kissing on the tv, never mind healthy relationships involving more than one person. He thinks about how all of this has always been called wrong, sinful, dirty. He thinks that when he feels Kuroo and Bokuto’s eyes on him, is when he feels the closest to being holy. There’s no dirtiness in this at all.</p>
<p>Akaashi realises that there is an outrageous brutality in cutting parts of yourself in order to please others. In clipping your life, so it’s dimmer, less colourful, less happy - just to live in a way that is deemed ‘right’, ‘acceptable’. Acceptable for whom? How could he consider it acceptable to deny himself love, deny himself the possibility of having these two wonderful, loving men in his life, by his side? How could he turn away in the face of this, when all he wanted was on the reach of his fingertips, and call it ‘the right choice’? </p>
<p>He thinks about Bokuto smiling at him, bright and excited, and asking him about his day. He thinks of Kuroo, picking him up from work with dinner, and arranging him a surprise and then doing the dishes. He thinks about warm lips and big hands and soft hearts.</p>
<p>Akaashi thinks about how good he feels whenever he is near them, close to them, with them. He thinks that in the end, there is a point in making lists and weighting counterpoints. This is a decision that, although unconsciously, has been made a long time ago.</p>
<p>He takes a deep breath, before lowering his hands. Both Bokuto and Kuroo are watching him, holding hands and worry in their eyes.</p>
<p>“Akaashi, if you don’t want to…” Kuroo begins</p>
<p>“Yeah, we didn’t mean to pressure you,” Bokuto continues the apology that is about to come, but Akaashi interrupts them.</p>
<p>“Ok.” He says, and watches as the distress on their eyes turn into confusion and then into pure bliss. </p>
<p>“Ok?” Bokuto asks, already smiling, and Akaashi can’t help but smile back.</p>
<p>“Ok.” He confirms. Kuroo moves forward and kisses him. Really kisses him. It’s the first time it happens in front of someone else, and Akaashi shivers but lets himself melt under it. When Kuroo pulls back, Akaashi thinks he has never seen him this happy. </p>
<p>And then Kuroo is kissing Bokuto, and then Akaashi gets pulled in the middle and kisses him as well. And they just keep kissing and enjoying and laughing and being happy. Together. </p>
<p>It’s odd and unconventional and unexpected - and perfect. In a way that Akaashi never imagined, but could never ask anything to be different. It was the happiest he had ever been until then.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“<em> I could recognize him by touch alone, by smell; I would know him blind, by the way his breaths came and his feet struck the earth. I would know him in death, at the end of the world </em>.”</p>
<p>― Madeline Miller, The Song of Achilles</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A few months have passed since that night. Their relationship has been going strong, with Bokuto visiting as often as he can and the three of them video calling a lot. In most ways, it's almost like nothing has changed at all. And they are all happy, so happy. Except… Except can’t help but think that something is missing. There’s this nagging feeling inside his chest sometimes when he looks at the three of them huddled on the couch or lazing around in bed. This space that could so easily be filled, like in a ‘spot the difference’ game, where he knows something is missing but doesn’t realize what it is. It takes him a solid week to finally pinpoint what it is, the missing thing. The missing someone. </p>
<p>It’s so simple, it almost feels stupid. They are having another movie night at Kenma’s place because he has the largest television of all of them, and Akaashi comes out of the kitchen holding the popcorn bowl. </p>
<p>“I think Kuroo is in love with Kenma,” Akaashi says, biting his lip anxiously. Bokuto looks at him, with an eyebrow raised, and chuckles.</p>
<p>“You think?” He says and Akaashi squints “Keiji, baby, I think that’s like...the third thing anyone notices when they meet Kuroo. First, they see the hair, then he opens his mouth, and they are like ‘Oh, wow, he is a little shit’ and then he mentions Kenma, and they are like ‘oh wow, he is in love with this person’.” Bokuto says still laughing, and Akaashi wants to laugh too because that’s so true, but he feels like he shouldn’t. Because, well, they are together, aren’t they? What does it mean for Kuroo to be in love with someone else? </p>
<p>What does it mean that Akaashi doesn’t care and think he might actually be in love with Kenma too? </p>
<p>Does Bokuto feel the same?</p>
<p>Would it ruin them if he asked it out loud? Were they not enough for each other? Had all of this been a huge mistake?</p>
<p>Akaashi feels a finger poking him in between his eyebrows and blinks, snapping back to reality. Bokuto is looking at him, a teasing smile on his face.</p>
<p>“You’re overthinking again” He says, and Akaashi sighs</p>
<p>“I’m just... Afraid, I guess. That we might not be enough for Kuroo.”</p>
<p>“I don’t think that's how it works,” Bokuto says, shrugging. “I don’t think love is a finite thing. I think Kuroo definitely loves him, but I think he loves us too. The way I love you is not the same way I love him, and I think that's the same as that,” Bokuto explains, and Akaashi stares at him, speechless. It is unfair that there are people in this world that do not perceive Bokuto Koutaro as the intelligent man that he is, that undermine his character for being a dumb, emotional, hot jock. Akaashi pities them, and his heart swells with pride for being someone that gets to know the truth, gets to see how smart and sensitive his boyfriend is. He is about to tell him that, when Bokuto continues, looking at him.</p>
<p>“Besides” he adds, with a smirk. “Don’t think that I haven’t noticed YOUR lingering stares on Kenma. You really are not fooling anyone but yourself if you think your feelings for him are passing under the radar,” Akaashi gasps, face heating up and heart beating fast. Bokuto is smiling but his words could easily be interpreted as an accusation and... And then he remembers who is talking to. Akaashi sighs, looking down. There really is no point in hiding. It’s his turn to shrug.</p>
<p>“You’ve kissed Kenma before. More than once, as far as I know. You think he is attractive as well.”</p>
<p>“Hell yes, have you seen Kenma?” Bokuto asks, giggling “Honestly, aren’t we all just whipped for Kenma, at the end of the day?” Akaashi can’t help but laugh because yes, yes they are. </p>
<p>“Well, I’m whipped for you too,” he adds, and Bokuto smiles, pulling him in for a kiss.</p>
<p>“Oh, good to know that the feeling is mutual,” he whispers in between kisses.</p>
<p>When they are back on the elevator, going up with the pizzas, Akaashi asks Bokuto if he thinks they should do something about it.</p>
<p>“I think Kuroo needs to get over himself first. I’m pretty sure that the only reason why Kenma is not a part of this is because he hasn’t confessed yet. Get Kuroo to confess and Kenma will follow. But I don’t think we should interfere unless that happens,” Akaashi nods and kisses him one more time before they walk in, happy to have such a smart and observing boyfriend.</p>
<p>Except that weeks pass and Akaashi finds himself impatient and annoyed. Kuroo shows no sign whatsoever that he plans on confessing. In fact, he doesn’t acknowledge his feelings for Kenma at all, not even when poked about it with indirect comments or indiscreet questions by his boyfriends.</p>
<p>It’s so extremely frustrating, especially considering that after his and Bokuto’s conversation, Akaashi has been watching them more. Not only the way that Kuroo and Kenma react to each other, this push and pull of their own gravity caused by years of being on each other's side but how well Kenma fits with all of them. How he always looks just two steps away from kissing them or allowing himself to be kissed.</p>
<p>And Akaashi wants to kiss Kenma, so bad. </p>
<p>So, on a Friday night, when Bokuto is home and Kenma is supposed to come over later, he does what he is not supposed to do. Pushes too far, puts his own wants and anxieties first. </p>
<p>They have just got back to his apartment after picking Bokuto up from the train station. Kuroo and Bokuto are putting away Bokuto’s over-exaggerated amount of snacks he bought earlier, Kuroo making fun of him and throwing in dumb video game jokes that they all know who he learned from. Akaashi is slicing away some cucumbers when he just can’t help himself any more.</p>
<p>“You know, I’ve been thinking,” he starts, voice in a fake casual tone “About Kenma.” </p>
<p>“What about Kenma?” Kuroo asks, voice confused but delighted to talk about his best friend. Akaashi looks up, and he can see the tension on Bokuto’s shoulders, but he continues nonetheless.</p>
<p>“He has been single for a while.”</p>
<p>“Oh,” Kuroo says</p>
<p>“I think it would be interesting…” he starts and Kuroo is already clamming up, like an animal that predicts it's about to be attacked “To ask him if he would like to join this. Us.” There is only suffocating silence in response to his words. “I think he would like that, I know I would and so would Bokuto.” He looks up to see his two boyfriends completely silent, staring at him like a deer in headlights. Bokuto looks like he is about to see someone be punched and Kuroo looks like he might pass out. Akaashi feels like he might pass out. But he started it, so he has to end it. He looks up, right into Kuroo’s eyes. </p>
<p>“I think…” he starts and Kuroo takes in a breath sharply, predicting the end of the sentence.</p>
<p>“Akaashi,” Kuroo’s voice tone is a warning on its own, but Akaashi ignores. </p>
<p>“That you’re in love with Kenma,”  he continues, voice tense and Kuroo jumps to a halt.</p>
<p>“Shut up,” He tells him, voice strained, but Akaashi persists. </p>
<p>“I think you loved him for a long time and I think you’re scared of things changing,”</p>
<p>“Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP,” Kuroo yells, backing away from the kitchen. </p>
<p>“Why are you so afraid of this? What happened to the so bold Kuroo we met? The one that asked not one but two of his friends to enter a relationship goes against everything that is considered ‘normal’ or ‘proper’? Since when are you a coward?” Akaashi raises his voice, and somewhere in the back Bokuto is asking them to slow down but it’s too late for that, months of repressed feelings rising and burning in their throats. “You called the both of us stupid for not confessing earlier, where’s all that bravery now?”</p>
<p>“That’s completely different,” Kuroo says, hands raised in the air, voice filled with desperation.</p>
<p>“How? What is so different about this?” Akaashi asks, hand slapping against the counter.</p>
<p>“Everything is different! He loves you, and Bokuto. But what if he doesn’t love me back? Uh? What then, oh great Akaashi?” he asks and his words come out dripping with a venomous sarcasm that burns with his pain. “You do not get to judge me when you’ve been pining over Bokuto for 300 years and it took you 3 bottles of beer and me meddling in for you to get over yourself and kiss him again.”</p>
<p>Akaashi steps back. </p>
<p>“Kuroo,” Bokuto says, voice stern in a way that is rare but bound to happen when people he loves, like both men in front of him, are in pain “That's not cool, and you know it. Akaashi’s just trying to help.”</p>
<p>Kuroo steps back, head hitting the wall. He had been running away from his feelings since middle school, and now he was just so tired. He felt like he might collapse from the sheer idea of holding Kenma’s hand.</p>
<p>Kuroo really wanted to hold Kenma’s hand. </p>
<p>“I’m sorry,” his voice is barely a whisper, voice cracking around the word. “I just… He is my best friend. He is the person that knows me better than anyone else and I… I just love him so much, so so much. God, I have no idea what I would even do without him. What if I tell him I love him, and he just...leaves? Just blocks me out. I wouldn’t be able to deal with it. I know he basically confirmed that he would like to be with the both of you again, but... But what if the problem is me? What if he is not in love with me? What if I tell him ‘Kenma I love you’ and he looks at me with disgust?” Kuroo covers his face “I would rather die than lose him, Akaashi. I can’t do it. I just can’t. I’d rather never confess than to risk it, and if that means you want to break up with me then I... Then it will hurt. But I’ll understand. I won’t confess, and you can’t make me.”</p>
<p>The world has never felt more fragile.</p>
<p>“Kuroo,” Bokuto whispers his name, and Kuroo is about to take a deep breath in an attempt to cease this intense feeling of the bile rising his throat, the tears gathering in the corner of his eyes when another voice breaks through.</p>
<p>“Do you mean it?” Kenma’s voice shatters him completely. It steals all the breath from his lungs, the panic so intense it makes him numb.</p>
<p>So this is it. This is the end of the thing he has cherished the most. The exposition of his biggest sin - the curse of falling in love with his best friend. Kuroo wishes to disappear, the world to swallow him whole, for a black hole to appear and take him to an alternative universe where he was born mute or without a heart. He wants to be anywhere but here, but there is nowhere to run. All he can do is to accept the situation and the pain that is about to come. So he sighs, giving up, and slides the hands off his face, facing his best friend, who is standing in the doorway holding a paper bag from the bakery nearby. </p>
<p>When Kuroo looks at Kenma in the eyes, it is simultaneously heaven and hell.</p>
<p>“Do you mean it?” Kenma repeats, and Kuroo nods, speechless for the first time in his life. Kenma strides in his direction, and Kuroo flinches, waiting for something. For Kenma to curse him, to slap him, to spit on him and call him disgusting, a liar, a betrayer. Something, anything.</p>
<p>He is not expecting Kenma to crouch in front of him, their faces on the same level. </p>
<p>“You’re shaking,” Kenma points out, and Kuroo doesn’t move. He feels like prey, or like a man on a minefield. If he moves any muscle he might explode. Kuroo gulps and opens his mouth.</p>
<p>“I’m sor-” he starts the apology</p>
<p>“Shut up,” Kenma interrupts him, and Kuroo thinks he might cry at any second now. “Shut up, shut up, don’t you dare apologize.”</p>
<p>“Kenm-” Kuroo doesn’t get to finish his name. Kenma raises his hand, and Kuroo flinches before the word finishes leaving his lips. Seeing his reaction, Kenma frowns and lowers his hand, opting instead to softly place it over Kuroo’s own hands, on his knees.</p>
<p>“Why did you never say anything?” The question comes out as a whisper, and Kuroo gulps again, unable to answer.</p>
<p>“Scared,” he chokes out, and Kenma tilts his head to the side, analysing Kuroo as if he belongs to a different species. He looks down at their hands, one on top of the other, the huge size difference. Kenma takes a deep breath before intertwining his own fingers with Kuroo’s. Kuroo stops breathing altogether.</p>
<p>Kenma is holding his hand.</p>
<p>And then, Kenma is kissing him. Really kissing him. </p>
<p>Somewhere in the background, he can hear laughs and yelps from his other boyfriends, and Kuroo thinks that maybe he should care a little more about the sound of crashing pots or the fact that Akaashi will be insufferable from now on, but he can’t. Kuroo can’t think of anything that goes beyond Kenma’s kips on his. The yearning that has been burning him away slowly since he was 15, finally being put out.</p>
<p>Eventually, they separate, the same goofy grin reflected on both their faces. They don’t have time to be sappy, Bokuto and Akaashi are inviting themselves to the party. It’s strange, to become a four-person thing, but at the same time, it feels extremely natural. It’s just them, and nothing else. They had been in each other's lives for so long that the idea of being separated was what truly felt wrong, like a world on the other side of the mirror. </p>
<p>Bokuto passes his hand over Kenma’s shoulders, pressing a kiss on his cheek, and Akaashi kisses Kuroo’s shoulder, whispering an apology for pressuring him. Kuroo smiles, holding Kenma’s hand, and kisses Akaashi’s lips.</p>
<p>“It’s ok,” he whispers “You were right.”</p>
<p>Akaashi sparkles with satisfaction, and Bokuto’s laugh is warming the room and Kenma’s hand is still on his. </p>
<p>Nothing has ever felt more right.</p>
<p>And in the end, truly, this is what it comes to, isn’t it? Four people who think of themselves as hard to love, being totally and completely head over heels for each other, giving all the love, attention and praise they deserve. </p>
<p>That’s what falling in love is - the discovery of a new adventure, while falling into the comfort of familiarity. The new path that leads to what we hope to be ‘forever’. Quick and intense, and slow and calming, all at once.</p>
<p>Love comes to us in the strangest ways. Sometimes it grows slowly, through familiar touches and too many bore secrets, to seeing each other through the best and worse from your first experiences to your deepest scars. Sometimes it is light-hearted and fun, it begins with sunny afternoons and laughing until your stomach hurts until you’re punched in the face with the strong undeniable desire of wanting to kiss them today and tomorrow, now and forever. Sometimes it is born out of profound admiration, of seeing someone in a higher ground until for reasons intrinsic to the human condition, you see them as they are, on the same level as you and far away from any perfection or holy matters. It only makes you love them even more. </p>
<p>Love is cups of coffee that you desperately need but are too busy to make; that get it done and delivered to you with a warm kiss and a soft ‘good work’ that you didn’t even need to ask for out loud. It is having the live stream of someone in the background even if you know nothing about the game being played, just so you can support them, so you can hear their voice. It’s kissing three different pairs of mouths, none of which have brushed their teeth, because you’re leaving to work and it’s a necessary sprinkle of energy and happiness for you to start your day. It’s waiting awake for the others to come home after work. It is covering your loved ones with a blanket when they fall asleep waiting for you. It is cooking their favourite food even if you can’t stand it, and singing silly songs together while you cook, and listening to endless discussions and analyses of books you didn’t read and matches you didn’t watch and 3 am shower thoughts that make no sense but it matters to them, and therefore it matters to you too. It is finding a way to squeeze four people dancing in a cramped kitchen at 1 am after first moving in together. Even though you’re all exhausted. Even though you all need to shower. </p>
<p>Maybe love rolls out easily off your tongue, maybe not. Maybe saying it out loud is painful and hard for you, the words getting stuck in your throat, so maybe love comes through constant and reassuring touches throughout the day. Maybe you clean their work table without them asking or help them out with bringing groceries from the car without being asked, so they won’t lose their fingers trying to bring all the bags in one trip. Or maybe you buy take out or treat them with dinner to nice places or bring home small trinkets you find on the corner store that you go buy every day on your way to work, as you just can’t help but be reminded of them everywhere you go. </p>
<p>Some might argue that love makes us blind, and although for certain scenarios such truth might be applicable (Please refer to e.g. 21: having the feeling of deep endearment after listening to a laugh that is much too similar to hyenas choking noise), after extended research, one would easily find the most intense counterpoint: it is also the one thing that makes us see. See the other for whom they truly are. See ourselves in lights we haven’t thought possible before. See little pieces of them everywhere we go and a sprinkle of habits gradually intertwining in each other's personalities and daily behaviour. </p>
<p>You have all learned to make space for each other in your hearts and lives, and every second is precious. Every moment is filled with a bone-deep love you never thought possible or worthy enough to have- but here are three other mouths that kiss the back of your neck and three pairs of hands that hold and touch you in every way possible, that scream daily: you are loved. You deserve this. They’re not going anywhere. You all chose each other, it’s a choice made long before you knew you made it. A sort of deal made by hearts, hands and lips, so intrinsic to your concept of existence that you almost missed it, almost left yourself to be engulfed by it as if it was a secret of the universe, too large for you to see the big picture. But the overwhelming need to look at them, soak into the details of their existence, the colour of their eyes, the way their voice sounds, how they say your name when you come home - it makes it impossible to think of this as something that is not. Something that is not love.  </p>
<p>Because this is it, what you have wanted and yearned for since you were a child but didn’t quite know what. Couldn’t understand why there is this tingly sensation at the bottom of your lungs, at the pitch of your stomach that resembles loneliness but not quite. Didn’t know how to articulate your desire into words, how to after what you want. Only knows that when they look at you - that is the only moment you start to feel complete. Not because you are separate parts of one set of a human being, but because it is by the gaze of a beloved that you start becoming your best - who you want to be. To be seen with love, regardless of all your flaws, mistakes and sins, is proof that you exist. </p>
<p>At the end of the day, isn’t that what any of us want: to find someone who will look at us, intentionally, and not look away when they see who we truly are. </p>
<p>There are many ways to love someone, some conventional, some not. </p>
<p>Maybe it is socially appropriate and commonly expressed in popular media but even if it isn’t - does it matter? Does it matter what other people might think or say? Maybe the looks prickle your skin and the possibility of the comments make your anxiety spike, but it’s irrelevant. They do not know, are not part of it, and so it does not matter if they understand. They don’t have a word in this little piece of heaven the four of you have carved. </p>
<p>Maybe it lasts forever, maybe it doesn’t. Maybe you get an eternity out of multiple limbs in one single bed occasionally joined by cats, soft lighting breaking into the room to the sound of the soft snore of two workaholics, one pro athlete and one streamer who trades the day for night. Maybe this small endless moment, this promise of forever whispered in between each other's shoulders, is all you ever get. And that is more than enough. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“<em> If soulmates do exist, they’re not found. They’re made </em>.”</p>
<p>― Michael, The Good Place s4e9</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“<em> I realized I’m in love. It's always been right in front of me </em>.” </p>
<p>― Richelle Mead, The Indigo Spell</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"<em> She recognized the strange happiness that came from loving someone without knowing why you did, that strange happiness that was sometimes so big that it felt like sadness. It was the way she felt when she looked at the stars </em>.”</p>
<p>― Maggie Stiefvater, The Raven Boys</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> That feeling of being known. Not in a superficial way, but in something deeper and truer.  </em>
</p>
<p>― Maggie Stiefvater, The Raven King</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you so much for reading this! Feedback is always welcome, and If you'd like to see me yelling about yearning, Kuroo and confessions you can always find me on <a href="https://twitter.com/ffskuroo">twitter</a>!!</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>